


The Hogwarts' Riddle

by Serpentina1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Destiny, F/M, Good Tom Riddle, Mystery, POV Ginny Weasley, POV Tom Riddle, Prophecy, Riddles, Romance, Slytherin Ginny Weasley, Teenage Tom Riddle, Time Travel, Tom Riddle's Diary, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpentina1/pseuds/Serpentina1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>14 years old Ginny Weasley is finally sick of worshipping ‘The boy who lived’ from afar. She decides to bring some adventure into her life and goes for Tom Riddle instead. An ancient prophecy at the library’s fireplace holds the key to everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PERTH

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations written by J.K. Rowling or Oscar Wilde. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made. The plot of this fiction is all mine, though.

**Prologue**

Blanching, her throat tight with fear, the red-haired girl backed away, steadying herself against the wall. Frantically she glanced along the dark corridor in both directions. They were all alone up here. 

All alone with – him. There was no one around beside the three of them. No one to come to their aid. 

In the weak light of dawn it was barely possible to recognize any more than silhouettes. Dark shapes against a slowly-approaching dawn. Nonetheless she was sure who the tall, black-robed man with the hood was and what he had come for. With tortuously slow strides he stepped closer, until there was no more than an arm’s length between them. She could not recognise his hooded face against the faint light of the grey winter morning. But his voice, barely a whisper, cut the silence like a whip as he spoke.   

“You shouldn’t have mixed into matters that aren’t yours, little Ginny Weasley-”

The hoarsely whispered words sounded strangely hollow in the deserted corridor. Then, slowly, as if he had all time imaginable, he raised his wand. 

At this the black-haired boy snapped out of his state of shocked immobility. Determinedly he stepped in front of the quivering girl and reached for his own wand. 

“Don’t hurt her!” 

With an annoyed clicking of his tongue the dark-robed man turned his hooded head to face him. _“Stand aside you silly boy …stand aside, now …”_ he growled. 

Quivering himself the black-haired boy took a hesitating step into the man’s direction.

“No!” he shook his head in attempt to stress his words, but his voice sounded incredibly young and frightened, nonetheless. “What do you want with her?” 

“I said ‘Stand aside!’” the man snarled, not bothering with an answer, raising his wand once again.  

“And I said ‘No!’” the boy snapped back, his voice louder and more determined now. “I won’t step aside. You ... you’ll have to deal with me first, if you want to get her!” 

This made the other wizard stop in mid-movement. “Are you _insane_ , boy?” he hissed. “Why would I possibly do this? Stand aside, now and let me finish what I’ve come for!”

With a furious hiss he conjured up an angry wave of sparks to drive the boy out of his way, but he stood his ground. The next curse hit the boy’s right side with sharp biting pain and this time he fought back, sending a rush of white-hot sparks in his opponent’s direction. 

This one responded with another attack and within a few moments they were truly duelling.

Furious, forceful curses criss-crossed around them, cutting off bits of sandstone whenever they hit the walls. Others hit each other in mid-air, causing showers of gleaming red and bright orange sparks to spray up. Pale white smoke hung across the scene and the air literally sizzled with electricity and smelled slightly scorched. 

Horrified, Ginny stumbled backwards out of their reach. Tripping over her own feet, she fell and landed in a crushed heap at the floor. But while she was still struggling to come to her feet again, she suddenly froze in mid-movement. All she could do was pinch her eyes shut and hide her face with the sleeve of her robe, when both opponents bellowed _Avada Kedavra_ at the same time and a bright flash of green light filled the corridor. 

With a dull sound a body hit the floor – then – there was nothing but silence.

Too afraid to open her eyes, terrified of what she might see Ginny listened to the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching her. 

 

 

**Chapter 1**                    -PERTH- 

 

Ginny Weasley had a problem. 

She was 14 - and she had a crush. At the moment, this crush was probably sitting at some table in the ‘Three Broomsticks’, with Cho Chang. 

It was not easy, being 14. And it was certainly not easy to have an unrequited crush on _‘The boy who lived’_. Ginny Weasley sighed in frustration. It simply was not fair. 

With a loud flump she closed the old, well-thumbed copy of _‘Hogwarts - A History’_ , ignored the stern look she got from Madame Pince, and turned her eyes towards the window.

Thick showers of cold February-rain fell in heavy blows out of a dark-grey clouded sky. The wind rattled and swept around the old castle. The icy water pattered against the windows and kept the world outside in a haze of watery blurriness. 

It even increased her foul mood.

Bored to death she gazed around the almost deserted library. Just a handful of students were seated at the dark, wooden tables, working in silence. Her gaze slipped across the high bookshelves, packed with hundreds and thousands of books of every age and size, before coming to rest at the fireplace. Like countless times before, she let her eyes wander across the ancient stone pictures at its white mantelpiece.

There were seven prominent stone shields, depicting various images of an old prophecy from the days of the Founders Four. An equally modulated stone chain led the viewer’s gaze along the shields in the supposed succession. 

The first image was a bolt of lightning, shaped just like the one of Harry’s scar.  

The next stone shield showed a phoenix with impressive tail-feathers. 

In the third one, a slender unicorn was pictured, looking at its own long, bushy tail. 

The fourth image was that of an opened book with a feather-quill inside. 

The fifth shield showed the round door to the chamber of secrets, with its seven snakes as a lock.

The next image was that of an hour-glass on a long, fragile chain. 

But the last one was her favourite as it showed two entwined wedding-bands and a single rose. 

Smiling, Ginny opened the old copy of ‘ _Hogwarts - A History’_ that still rested at the table in front of her. The images of the stone shields were also pictured at the old book’s first page. In ancient, entangled, scarlet red letters the words of the prophecy were set. She did not know how often she had read and reread the lines on the thick, yellowish parchment. She loved them, even if she was not sure about their meaning.

 

_Far in the future that lies ahead_

_When darkness and fear torture the land_

_A maiden who reads what herein is said_

_Will know what I speak of – she will understand_

 

_The wand of phoenix-feathers and yew’s wood_

_Wielded by the dark-haired one, forlorn_

_Will, if he meets that lass - sweet and good_

_Not fight the apple’s wood - and unicorn._

 

_If cunning slyness - used for reasons dark_

_Gives strength to the brave one - to conquer her fears_

_She might bring to their hearts - that magical spark_

_If she dares to travel - through all those years._

 

_Love as the one thing no Dark Magic can fight_

_Will defeat the evil with kindness and light._

 

Ginny released a sigh of satisfaction at the poem. She had always had a sense for romance. Maybe that was her problem. She had read those lines over and over again. It seemed to be written for Harry, she thought.

The bolt of lightening, the part about the dark-haired boy, who was all lost and forlorn in the world and the description of his wand - Well, except for that part about the kind of wood it had been made of. The prophecy said, it were yew tree and Harry’s wand was one of holly’s wood instead. But certainly the seer, who had made this prophecy about happenings so far in the future, could not have known of _every_ little detail, and he had been right about the phoenix feather at least. This had to be written for Harry, everything else fit so perfectly. And his mother’s love had saved him from Voldemort. Or wasn’t that what was meant by those last lines? 

Her elder brothers had told her about the prophecy, long before she had started at Hogwarts. She had been overjoyed, when her own wand had turned out to be one of apple’s wood and unicorn-hair. It somehow sounded as if Harry would still fall for her in the end. It had given her a lot of comfort in hours of unrequited longing. 

She had spent lots of time at the library, just to read and reread the prophecy and to look at the pictures in the stone shields. She had tried to figure it out. 

The image of the Chamber’s entrance with its seven serpents might be referring to the incident when Harry had rescued her from down there. She loved the idea that, the prophecy might be referring to her and Harry. It was so very romantic. She just was not sure what the image of the hour-glass and the book and quill were supposed to mean.  

Finally, Ginny drew her eyes away from the fireplace and clapped the book shut once more. If  no-one had solved the _‘Hogwarts’ Riddle’_ up to now, she certainly would not do so today. 

The whole room smelled of dust, furniture polish and old books, mixed with the scent of some coffee Madame Pince had obviously brewed for herself.

Ginny sighed in frustration again. This day certainly could not get any worse. She doubted anyone besides herself would be stupid enough to stay at school on a Hogsmeade weekend - the first of the year, to be precise - of their own free will.

 All of her friends were down there. Only she had stayed behind. Not because of a detention, but out of  - well, she was simply sick of watching Harry running after Cho Chang all the time.

He would not notice her at all. As hard as she might try, he simply would not. He was friendly to her, she could not deny that, but he never saw anything else in her than Ron’s little sis. 

She had shed many tears over this. It had taken her many endless nights of crying, until she had finally reached the state of frustration she was currently in. 

She was deeply, utterly annoyed and bored to death. And she was certainly at the point to do something drastic.

All those tears she had shed in a state of  lover’s grief, had awoken a great deal of strength in her and the desperate wish to prove herself. She had discovered a sense of adventure she did not know she possessed. 

Her friends did not seem to understand her anymore. Recently, she was not even sure if she did so herself. She had even briefly considered making a move on Draco freaking Malfoy, just for a challenge. Just to shock her friends. To wipe the knowingly pitying look off of their faces. They felt so damn superior to her. She could almost hear their thoughts.

_‘Be nice to Ginny, she has had a crush on Harry for ages, but he won’t ever notice her. Poor, stupid little girl.’_

It would get them the shock of their lives if she dated Malfoy. But she had quickly dropped that idea again. He was just an arse. She could not stand him. 

There was no one she could tell about her confused feelings. But she needed to word them in some kind of way to sort them out. And so she had finally started to keep a diary again, like she had done back in her first year. 

Only now, there was no one to respond to her entries. No one to comfort or encourage her, when she was depressed, like the kind, good-looking sixth year, who had once listened to all her worries.

She missed him, she noticed, thunderstruck. Even if his kindness had been no more than a farce. She missed him badly. Maybe she had far more of a crush on him than she had ever realised. 

She did not want Draco Malfoy, nor any other boy she knew. She was so sick of all of this. Maybe she really had not seen through the glory of Harry’s name. After all, she had worshipped him, before she even _knew_ him.  She had been stuck on her crush on him for so long, just because of the idea she had of his personality.  

If she had fooled herself about him all that time, wasn’t it possible that she had been mistaken in other judgements also? Was it possible that the other boy, whose diary she had once shared, had at some time really held the goodness inside himself that he had shown to her in his diary? 

She was not sure if those thoughts made any sense. Even to herself the idea sounded strange. But in her current state of confusion, she did not really care.

She felt lost, even in a crowded room, surrounded by her friends.

Especially there. 

She felt as if she were missing something – something important – something, worthy of seeking and fighting for. It was neither fortunes nor glory she was searching for - as was Percy’s or Ron’s ambition. 

She hungered for something far deeper and rarer than that. For something special. She did not want to just be – dear little Ginny for everyone – anymore.

She wanted to be someone’s whole world. Someone’s destiny. 

She wanted to experience a kind of love that was able to ease any pain, to change wrong to right, evil to good and darkness to light. Just like that old prophecy above the fireplace said. And suddenly she realised, what was wrong with her ever since she had left the Chamber of Secrets. 

_She missed him._

Well, not Voldemort, certainly not him - but the kind, understanding, dark-haired boy he had once been. 

_She missed Tom Riddle._

And with that, a plan started to form inside of her mind.

 

**A/N:** The 1st Chapter’s title refers to PERTH, the rune of initiation. It also stands for hidden aspects in a relationship and for a secret destiny. My little knowledge of runes and their meaning is a result of various sources. I hope no one feels offended, if I’m playing around with runes in some parts of this story. I try to keep my interpretations as close to their original meaning, as possible.

What do you think? It’s certainly strange. I’m aware of that. But somehow, I suppose it might become a lot of fun.

Thanks to **SilentG** for revising this chapter.

 

Smiles, Serpentina

 


	2. RAIDO

Determinedly Ginny got up from her seat and headed straight for the back of the library, where she knew the yearbooks were located.

It was all quiet in this deserted section. The old books were only very seldom consulted and certainly not on a Hogsmeade weekend. Shivering, she dragged her woollen cloak tighter around her shoulders. She always brought it along, whenever she went to the library. It was always creepy cold inside here.

The bad thing about the beautiful fireplace was the fact that it did not allow any fire – magical or other – to burn inside its hearth. Every flame would just die away as soon as it made contact with the old stone. It was told that one day, more than half a century ago, the merrily flickering fire had for some reason started to die away and not a single spark had been able to glow in there ever since. No matter what anyone did to remedy it. 

Only special spells and enchantments kept the room dry and saved all the wonderful old books from dampness.

Slowly, Ginny stepped along the long rows of bookshelves that reached up to the high ceiling. There were so many yearbooks and she did not even know for which of them she was searching. She needed to do this methodically.

“ _Tom Riddle,_ ” she whispered and pointed the tip of her wand at the old leather bands’ cracked backs, “ _find him_ …”

Carefully, she kept her eyes on the wand, while she traced it along the long row of books. The thick carpet muffled her every step and the rain’s heavy downpour was the only noise to her ears. Her heart hammered excitedly inside of her chest, when the tip of her wand finally started to glow in a soft, orange light as soon as it touched the yearbook of 1945.

She stopped and after a careful glance over her shoulder, she drew the book out of its shelf. It was, like the many others around, of scarlet and brown leather that had faded with the decades. Several fine cracks ran across its cover, like wrinkles on a face.

One last time Ginny hesitated, then she shoved every doubt aside and opened the book.

_R_

The first thing she saw was the kind smile of a pink-faced girl with honey-blond hair.

_Abbott, Henriette – Hufflepuff,_ the scripting beneath the smiling picture read. This was obviously a relative of Hannah.

Ginny turned a few pages and stopped at another familiar name.

_Longbottom, Richard – Ravenclaw._ Well, that was certainly some surprise. Who would have guessed that?

Ginny’s lips formed into a slight smile as she turned the page.

A pale, beautiful girl with long, silky silvery-blond hair looked straight into her eyes as if daring readers to not notice her.

_Malfoy, Meredith – Slytherin._

Still too far in the beginning.

Ginny grabbed a bunch of pages at once and looked into the broad grinning, freckled face of - Ron. No – that was not Ron. Her eyes grew wide with surprise when she read the name.

_Weasley,_ there was no doubt about that, but _Weasley_ , _Jonathan – Gryffindor._

_That_ – was ancient, fragile granduncle Jonathan? This grinning, healthy young man with the trademark flaming-red hair and the trace of mischief in his eyes?

Ginny drew in a sharp breath and for the first time it occurred to her, how very many years she would have to travel into the past, if she really were to put her plan into action.

Slowly and thoughtfully, she turned a few pages back and there he was.

A handsome boy around 18 with pale skin, jet-back hair and bottle-green eyes.

Tom Riddle.

He looked a lot like Harry; only his hair was not as short and untidy, but straight and silky. It reached down to his earlobes and was just the slightest bit curled at the ends, what gave it some volume. And of course, there was no scar on his forehead.

He looked rather good.

When his eyes met with hers, Ginny felt a nervous flickering in the pit of her stomach and quickly clapped her hand over the picture and read.

_Riddle, Tom Marvolo - Slytherin._

And further: _Son of Margery Riddle nee *Mackenzie and Tom Riddle. Born November13th 1926 at_ _Little Hangleton. Prefect – Head-Boy – Assessed with ‘Special Services To The School’ in 1942 and a ‘Medal for Magical Merit’ in 1944._ _Graduation Essay: Ancient Runes Scripting._

Ginny took out a piece of parchment and a quill and started to copy the entry.

When she drew her hand back from the picture, Riddle scowled suspiciously at her and she clapped the book shut in a hurry.

Dust whirled up and tickled her nostrils. The echo of her sneeze sounded sharply through the quiet library. Hastily, she stuffed the book back onto its shelf and looked carefully behind her back.

There was no one around.

The rain was pattering harder against the windows now and the wind hit the castle walls in furious blows. Just when she looked outside, a first bolt of lightning crossed the dark-grey sky.

She flinched with surprise and hurried off towards the section where the Graduation essays where kept. Shortly after, she had found the one she was looking for and sat down on the floor with it. She leaned her back against the shelf and opened the book in her lap.

All the essays inside dealt with Rune Scripting in one way or another. Riddle’s was the interpretation of a complex Rune setting. Ginny gasped, when her eyes fell onto the narrow, sharp-angled flourishes that were so very familiar to her from his diary. Those very same letters, slightly shifting to the right, covered the old yellowing parchment. Clear elegant swirls, neatly set in jet-black ink. That was the way Tom had written in their diary.

Tears crept into her eyes. She had never realised, how much she had missed him. But now that she looked at the familiar handwriting that awareness hit her with full force. The words blurred in front of her eyes. A single tear fell onto the text and left a dark spot, where it caused the ink to smear the parchment. Ginny quickly cast a cleansing spell on the page to fix the mess and forced herself to focus on the task she had set for herself.

In his Graduation essay, Tom had foretold that a dark-haired boy with emerald-green eyes would cause the downfall of a powerful Dark Wizard in this century. And that he would wear a scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning for the rest of his life.  

Excitedly, Ginny took in every word he had written.

By the time she was halfway through the essay, the sky outside had so much darkened, she could hardly recognise the words anymore. Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and dipped the pages into bright, bluish-white light for a few seconds. The dark growling of thunder followed closely after.

Ginny flinched once more. If she had to take this as an omen, going for Tom Riddle did not seem to be the easiest choice she could have made either.

“ _Lumos,”_ she whispered and finished reading the last pages in the dim glow of her wand. It was almost completely dark by the time she was done with it. She got up, put the book back onto its shelf and searched for a book about advanced Transfiguration.

She had to get hold of Hermione’s Time-Turner, she decided. But it would not make any sense to take it from her now, before she discovered how to transfigure it. A Time-Turner was not supposed to be used to travel across such a wide gap in time. She was not even sure if it would work out at all.

There was just one thing left to be done now.

_R_

Back at her dormitory, she dropped all her robes and other clothing onto her bed and started to remove her name and the Gryffindor-crest from each of them. Likewise, with all her books. Every piece of clothes that showed the scarlet and gold colours, like her ties or shawls, she stuffed back into the wardrobe and packed all the rest of her belongings into her trunk.

By the time she was finally done with her preparations, it was already time to go down to the Great Hall for dinner. Her friends would probably be back by now. She was not mistaken about that.

Their happy, excited chatting echoed along the corridors as the stream of students floated into the vast Entrance Hall. Their hair dishevelled and slightly wet from the rain outside; their faces flushed with excitement from adventures only a Hogsmeade weekend could bring.

She got some pitying side glances from her friends as they asked her how she had spent the day. And she noticed the concerned look Ron exchanged with Hermione that seemed to say _‘Poor little Ginny, we need to drag her out of her shell.’_

When she looked at Harry for the first time that evening, she noticed he watched the Ravenclaw table all the time and smiled at Cho, whenever she looked back at him. She seemed to do so a lot as the strangely distracted expression almost never left his face.

Ron and Hermione shot another worried glance at each other, when they saw Ginny looking at Cho. But Ginny noticed that she cared extraordinarily little about the whole situation. She had her own plans for the evening. And she felt her heart flutter in excitement about them.

The dark-haired, handsome boy from the yearbook’s picture appeared inside of her mind and a slight smile crept across her lips.

_R_

In the evening, she brooded on her plan. She and Hermione were sitting in a quiet corner of the crowded common room. Hermione was reading some Arithmancy book. Ginny pretended to work on a Transfiguration essay, but wrote a short letter to Ron instead.

Afterwards, she looked up how to set a Time-Turner for crossing different wide gaps in time. If she really wanted to meet a Tom Riddle, who was not already involved in the vicious web of the Dark Arts, she had to get out at some point in time - before the year the Chamber of Secrets had been opened the first time.

In 1992, her first year, it had been exactly 50 years ago. Now she was three years older and in her fourth year. It was February 1996, what meant she had to go 53 years back to get out in February 1943. She was a little worried that Tom might have already turned towards the dark side, if she met him in the middle of his fifth year, but she must not get out far earlier as she did not want him to be too young either.

She grinned. She was hardly interested in meeting him as a first year, was she?

How on earth was she supposed to manage this? There were possibilities to transform a Time-Turner in such a way that it would transport the traveller one _year_ ahead or back in time for each turn, depending on whether it was done clockwise or counter-clockwise.

And in one section, a successful journey of about two decades was mentioned. But it seemed to have been an exception.

This was going to be quite dangerous.

_R_

In the darkness of her dormitory Ginny tossed and turned in bed, thinking feverishly about a solution. The storm still howled around the castle and was keeping her awake anyway.

When the moon appeared out of the thick, grey blanket of clouds around four o’clock in the morning and traced a band of pale-slivery light across her bed sheets, she suddenly knew. It was no different from travelling by train, she told herself. If she could not get there directly, she had to change somewhere in between.

She sat bolt upright in her bed. That was the solution! She would simply go there in several small sections. 

Excitedly, she planned every step that would be required in the morning.

At the break of dawn, she silently slipped out of bed and crept on tiptoes into Hermione’s dormitory. It would all work out fine, she told herself over and over again. It just had to. 

The pale morning light was just enough to let her recognise her surroundings as dark, formless shapes. So she would not run into anything by accident. She could recognise her friend’s sleeping form on the bed and her open bag on a chair across the room. Some books were piled on the floor next to it and she carefully avoided knocking them over as she stole Hermione’s Time-Turner out of her bag.

She could just hope she would not miss it until the first lesson in the morning – and by then, Ginny smiled, she would already be gone.

_R_

Back in her own dormitory once more, she silently slipped into her robes and pointed her wand at her trunk.

_“Reductio,”_ she muttered and the large, heavy trunk shrunk to the size of a matchbox. Ginny slipped it into the pocket of her robe and stuffed her diary into her cloak.

She was ready now. She placed the small, yellow envelope with her brother’s name at her pillow and left the dormitory without looking back.

Down in the common room, which was completely deserted at this early hour, she picked the Time-Turner out of her bag and pointed her wand at it.

“ _Decem ani,_ ” she whispered. The spell would allow her to travel ten years through time at each turn. The tiny hour-glass started to glow with pale-blue light and a fine ringing filled the air. Determinedly, Ginny threw the long, fragile golden chain around her neck and turned the hour-glass two times counter-clockwise.

The first few seconds nothing happened and Ginny was just about to take it off in disappointment, when she was suddenly dragged backwards. In a blur of colours and shapes she rushed back in time.

She spun around in quick, endless circles and the world disappeared from her view. Everything was reduced to a blurry haze of shapes and colours. Light switched with darkness and warmth became cold - then warmth again. It must be the seasons’ passing and the permanent change of night and day.

It was terrifying.

_R_

All of a sudden, the whirling movement stopped. With a hard bounce she hit the floor. Quite unfocused, Ginny looked around. She was still in the common room, but the light had changed.

A dark-haired boy with round glasses stared at her in disbelief. He jumped out of his armchair by the fireplace and _‘Quidditch Through The Ages’_ , the book he had been reading, slammed to the floor.

“What- Lily? Who _are_ you?!” he gasped.

Ginny’s head was spinning in confusion. She was in 1976 now. This must be Harry’s father, James Potter.

“I’m sorry,” she stuttered helplessly and fumbled hurriedly with the hour-glass, “I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry…”

She was off again.

This time it was even worse. She had not quite recovered from the first journey yet. When she felt solid ground under her feet once more, she tripped and stumbled forward.

Gasping for breath, she lay on the cold stone plates of some dark corridor. The raw stone walls were lit only by a few flickering torches and the rare patches of light faded into the dark shadows in the many windings and forks. The large stone plates - polished by countless feet over the centuries – were constantly and restlessly shifting between light and darkness …

There was no one around. And whenever this was, she did not want to meet anyone. This was probably a corridor somewhere around the Slytherin dungeons, she supposed. But how many years had she gone back this time? She had turned that hour-glass over in great hurry to escape James Potter’s questions.

But had it been two decades or three, she had travelled? She was not entirely sure. Probably two, she decided shivering. That meant that she had got out in 1956. At a time, when the Dark Lord had been at the height of his power.

He was 29 by now. And the Slytherin dungeons were probably crowded with his followers. She shivered once again. No matter how exhausted she was, she could not stay here. Carefully, she turned the hour-glass one time counter-clockwise once more to travel back the last decade.

She had supposed this to be easier, because it was only 10 years to go this time, but it was not. By the time the terrifying whirling stopped, she was too weak to get to her feet again. Tears blurred her vision and her whole body shook and trembled desperately. Barely conscious she crept towards the nearest closet and curled up between the boxes and broomsticks inside. She rested her head on the cool stone floor and closed her eyes. This was _terrible_. She had not imagined it to be this hard to travel through time.

She must be in 1946; one year after Dumbledore had defeated the Dark wizard Grindelwald.

Tom must be 19 right now. It was one year after he had graduated from Hogwarts. It would be probably safe, if she rested here for a few minutes.     

**_R_ **

Up in the Gryffindor dormitory Hermione rummaged desperately through her bag. She could not find her Time-Turner. She was absolutely sure it had been in there when she had put the bag onto the chair the last evening.

She always made sure the Time-Turner was not lying around anywhere. Someone must have taken it out of her bag. She frowned at the idea of someone sneaking into her dorm in the dark of the night to steal her Time-Turner. But who would –

An excited scream from next room let her drop all her belongings to the floor.

“Hermione!” Ron yelled frantically. “Hermione, Harry! Come here, quick!” 

When they reached him, they gasped with shock. Pale as a ghost, Ron was sitting on the edge of his sister’s bed. An opened envelope lay on the covers beside him and a letter was clenched in his fist.

“Ginny,” he stammered and looked up at them, “she’s gone…”

“What?!” they both gasped and with shaking hands, Ron passed the note to them.

It read:

_Dear Ron,_

_There’s something urgent I have to do. I might be away a couple of days. Maybe even longer. Please tell Mum, Dad, our sibs, Harry and Hermione, not to worry about me. I’m fine, really.  All the time, I’ve been missing something and couldn’t tell what it was. But now, I know._

_Love Ginny_

Hermione’s eyes grew wide as she drew some quick conclusions. “Oh gods Ginny, what have you done?!” she groaned. 

**_R_ **

Ginny woke at the sound of footsteps in front of her closet-hiding place. Several students hurried along the corridor outside. She could hear their voices.

“What are you going to wear for our Graduation ball, Minerva?” a strangely familiar, female voice asked.

“Oh,” another well known, but oddly young voice answered, “I haven’t the foggiest, Liana! Do you have dress robes already?”

“No,” the other girl responded, “maybe we could look for something nice to wear, the next Hogsmeade weekend?”

“I’m sorry, Liana,” her friend responded, “I most likely won’t go to Hogsmeade the next time. I’m still busy with the research for my Graduation essay about animagi, you know?”

“Ahh,” the squeaky voice of Professor Flitwick interrupted their discussion.

“It’s the Misses McGonagall and Sprout. That’s a lucky coincidence. Professor Dumbledore wants a word with you about your essay, Miss McGonagall. He’s still in the Transfiguration classroom. If you’re lucky, you might catch up with him on his way to the staff room.”

“Oh, thank you, Professor Flitwick,” the young McGonagall muttered.

“See you later Liana,” she told her friend and hurried off.

Ginny shook her head in confusion. She was obviously in the year the Professors McGonagall and Sprout had graduated. What a strange thought -

_“Singulis anis,”_ she muttered under her breath and the little hour-glass started to glow again. This time, it was a soft greenish light. There were only three final years to go. She would certainly manage this, wouldn’t she?

Slowly, she turned the hour-glass three times counter-clockwise.

When her vision cleared again, she was lying in the middle of the Entrance Hall. A very huge boy of about 13 years bent over her. Wild black curls surrounded another oddly familiar face.

“Ar’ ye’ all righ’, Miss?” he asked worriedly.

Ginny’s eyes widened in disbelief. This was Hagrid. He could not be any older than 12 or 13 years old. She noticed in wonder, how very young his face looked.

She was in the year 1943 - finally.

“Miss?” Hagrid requested nervously and she smiled at him.

“Oh yes, don’t worry, I’m fine. I just tripped over my own feet.”

A boyish grin spread across his face. “Ah, I know tha’.” He held out one huge hand to help her up. “I’m Rubeus Hagrid.”

“Oh hi,” she muttered confused and got to her feet with his help. “It’s Ginny, thank you, Rubeus.”

“I haven’ seen ye’ before,” he remarked curiously.

“Oh no, I’m new here,” she muttered hastily. “Can you tell me, where I can find the headmaster’s office?”

His face darkened at that. “Yea,” he sighed gravely, “I’m up there almos’ ev’ry week. ‘m always gettin’ in some kin’ o’ trouble, ye’ know?” he shrugged and grinned once more. 

“Oh,” Ginny grinned back at him, “that’s bad.”

As Hagrid already knew the password, they reached the headmaster’s office only moments later.  Ginny waited in front of the dark wood door, while Hagrid was inside the office. She looked out of the small window across the vast Hogwarts’ grounds. Everything looked just the way she knew it. And yet, everything was so very different now.

She felt kind of nervous. She had decided to tell headmaster Dippet something about a lost memory. But would he be satisfied with that explanation?

_R_

When Ginny finally entered the headmaster’s office, her palms felt all hot and sweaty from excitement. She had been in the circular room before, in her own time, right after Harry had rescued her out of the Chamber of Secrets. But she had not paid much attention to her surroundings then. She had been restlessly scared and half blind with tears.

The headmaster was a friendly old man with very sparse, thin white hair. He led her over towards his desk and offered a seat to her.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he asked pleasantly, “do I know you?”

“Emm, no, Headmaster, I don’t think so,” Ginny muttered nervously.

The old man’s brows rose in surprise at that. “Well, would you kindly tell me, who you are then?”

She told him a touching story about a lost memory. And the old man’s concern made her feel all bad for lying to him.

But what could she do? He would never ever allow her to stay, if she told him the truth. So she made up a story about her parents, sending her off to a boarding-school, the name of which she did not remember. All she _‘remembered’_ were her age and first name. Virginia. And of course, her magical inheritance.

“Oh, that is a really sad story, Miss Virginia,” the old man told her kindly.

“Maybe, you should see our medical witch, Miss Morphine, before we discuss things any further.”

“Oh no, sir,” she told him hastily, “that won’t be necessary. I’m perfectly fine. Really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss. But you need to be careful. Whatever made you lose your memory, it might have been some traumatic incident or even an accident, you know?”

Ginny just nodded and he continued, “Well then, it is probably best if you carry on with your life as normally as possible. It would not be wise, to force the blocked memories to break free, I suppose. They will come back at the adequate time, I am sure about that.”

He smiled again. “You say you are a witch?”

Ginny nodded once more.

"And you are fourteen?” 

“Yes sir, I’m almost fifteen.”

“Hmm, it is probably best for you to take part in 4th year lessons then. I just need to test your magical education first. All right?”

She nodded nervously. “Of course, sir.”

“I will inform the Ministry of Magic of your presence at this school, in case your parents are searching for you. But you should better not talk to other students about your memory loss. It might make them feel awkward to deal with you. And you will need a surname, of course. You may invent one, if you do not remember your real name at the moment.”

Ginny nodded, feeling guilty once again. But then, she reminded herself of why she had come here and an excited fluttering filled her stomach.

And suddenly, she knew the perfect surname.

She had loved it ever since Hermione had given her that muggle author’s book as a birthday present. It was a romantic story of a young girl, who moved from America to England to live at Canterville Hall, where she befriended the restless ghost who haunted the castle. The story was named _‘The Canterville Ghost’_ and an ancient prophecy at the library’s fireplace had to be fulfilled by the girl, whose name was Virginia Otis.

“I would like to introduce myself as Virginia Otis,” she told the headmaster.

“Well then, Miss Otis,” he smiled, “would you please levitate that quill in front of you?”

Ginny smiled. That was a task she was good at. Carefully, she pointed her wand at the little object on the desk.

“ _Wingardium Levi-o-sa.”_  

The fluffy white feather quill lifted itself up into the air.

Professor Dippet smiled at her. “Well done, Miss Otis. Now try to transform this little ink bottle into an octopus, please.”

She did and the very next second, a bright-orange octopus wriggled on the desk between them. Its long tentacles were gripping parchment, quills and everything else in their reach. One of them whipped the headmaster’s glasses off of his nose. Ginny raised her wand and transfigured the octopus back, before it could cause a real mess, or would miss the water too much. After that, she picked up the broken glasses from the floor.

“ _Reparo,_ ” she muttered and passed the intact glasses back to their owner.  

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she grinned.

Headmaster Dippet looked at her with approval.

“That was brilliant, Miss Otis,” he smiled. “Very good indeed. I suppose we can say that you are more than well educated. So it leaves just the question, of what house you should join. But luckily we have an expert on that matter with us.”

He got up from his seat, walked over towards a high bookshelf and picked the old Sorting Hat up.

“This is the one who will know best where to send you, Miss Otis,” he smiled. “Please sit down on that three legged chair over there and put the Sorting Hat on.” 

With wobbly knees, Ginny rose from her chair and followed his order. When she put the hat onto her head, it did not slip across her eyes as it had done the first time, but stayed on the crown of her curls.

Nervously, she pinched her eyes shut and waited.

_R_

_“Hmm,”_ a tiny voice inside of her head appeared. She kind of remembered it from her real sorting.

_“Another Weasley – a little old for being sorted, aren’t we, Missy? Well, it’s no big deal. Gryffindor will be the right house for you – there’s no doubt about that.”_

_“No please,”_ Ginny thought frantically, _“not Gryffindor, please. I mustn’t be there!”_

_“Not Gryffindor?”_ the hat’s voice sounded startled.

_“Why not? It’s really the best choice for you, you know? But if you’re sure – let me see… I don’t think you’re a match for Hufflepuff – too much temper.  A real Weasley, are we? Mmm, maybe Ravenclaw – You’re certainly smart enough … “_

Ginny’s head was working frantically. _“Put me in Slytherin,”_ she asked urgently.

_“Slytherin?!”_ the old hat sounded surprised, almost shocked.

_“Yes please.”_ Ginny thought.

_“I don’t think that’s the right choice for you, my dear -,”_ the hat hesitated.

_“But I need to be in there,”_ Ginny thought desperately.

_“I want to be in Slytherin, oh please.”_

_“Calm down, Missy,”_ the hat chuckled. _“Well, if you insist on it. There’s definitely something strange about you – and that tale you told Headmaster Dippet, was very Slytherin of you after all … We both know, there wasn’t much true about it … All right then, you asked for it …so..”_

“SLYTHERIN!” it yelled out aloud.

_R_

Ginny opened her eyes with relief.

Headmaster Dippet watched her with a trace of interest. He certainly had not expected this.

“Well then, Miss Otis,” he smiled, “after that question has been cleared, I assume it will be best to send you down to your common room. You need to settle in.”

He turned towards the fireplace and threw in a small amount of a pale-pink powder inside.

“Albus,” he called and Ginny gasped as the head of a very much younger Professor Dumbledore appeared in the flames. His hair and beard were as long as ever, but were of bright auburn colour now, instead of the silvery-white she knew.

“Ah,” Dipped smiled, “Albus, there you are, that is fine. Would you please send the Slytherin Prefect out of your lesson? He is to report to my office. We have a new student here, who needs to be led to her common room. Miss Virginia Otis.”

“Certainly, Headmaster,” Dumbledore smiled and Ginny noticed the familiar twinkling in his bright-blue eyes.

“Welcome at Hogwarts, Miss Otis,” he told her.

“T-Thank you, Professor Dumbledore,” she muttered and cursed herself for it the very next second. She was not supposed to know his surname, was she?

Both men seemed to be surprised, but did not ask her about the matter right then. Dumbledore’s head disappeared with the promise to send the Slytherin Prefect. Ginny relaxed once more and leaned back in her chair to wait for his arrival.

Only a few minutes later, a knock on the door caused her to tense again.

“Come in,” Dippet called kindly.

Nervously, Ginny turned her head. The dark wooden door creaked open and Tom Riddle entered the room.

 

**A/N:** Thanks for following this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. Its title refers to RAIDO, the rune of journey. It resembles the letter _R_ I printed between the single sections, but has a sharp-angled form instead of its bow. I didn’t find a better suitable sign.

Smiles, Serpentina


	3. ALGIZ

When Tom Riddle entered the circular room, his eyes immediately fell on the flaming-red curls of the girl who sat in front of the Headmaster’s desk. Curiously, he tilted his head aside to catch a glimpse of her face. All he could see was soft, creamy-white skin with a huge amount of freckles and a nice profile with a stub-nose. She was very small and slender – almost fragile, he noticed, and her posture was quite tense. She seemed to be literally on the edge of her seat, ready to jump to her feet and flee the room every second.

Her hands were constantly wrestling with her robe and the pulse at her neck was throbbing visibly. For some reason, she seemed to be very nervous, almost frightened.

Well, that was certainly none of his concern. After all, he was just supposed to offer her some help as a Prefect and that was it. He had other things in mind than to wonder about a scared little girl.

But there was definitely something strange about her, he could not put his finger on it. Something mysterious. He could not even tell her age, as long as she did not turn her face towards him. If she had only looked at him.

Ψ

Ginny’s eyes widened with shock, when Tom Riddle stepped into the room. Quickly, she turned her back to him and stared at the desk in front of her.

She was turning bright red, she already felt the blood creeping into her cheeks. 

How on earth could she have forgotten about the fact that he had been a Prefect? She had read about it in the yearbook, hadn’t she? But she simply had not thought of it, when Dippet had asked Dumbledore to send the Slytherin Prefect up to his office.

How stupid of her – now she was completely taken by surprise and unprepared to face him. Surely, she had come here because of him, but she had not planned to meet him like this.

“Ah, Riddle,” the Headmaster remarked affably, “there you are.”

“You called for me, Professor Dippet?”

Ginny almost flinched at the sound of the voice she had not heard for so long now. But this time it was not echoing somewhere in the far distance at his every word, as it had in her first year; and his shape was not transparent or blurred at the edges either. He was still quite pale, but looked healthy and definitely – alive. 

“Yes, indeed my dear boy,” Dippet told him kindly. He pointed out the chair next to hers to him.

“Take a seat please, Mr. Riddle.”

The addressed crossed the room and stepped next to her chair. There was no escape now. She had to look at him. 

“This is Miss Otis, a new student,” Dippet continued, “she will join Slytherin House as a fourth-year. In your responsibility as a Prefect, I request you to lead her down to the common room and introduce her to the first class she has to attend.”   

For the first time since Tom had entered the room, Ginny really looked at him. He was tall and lean, his jet-black hair was cut in just the same way she had seen it in the yearbook. He looked a lot like that picture, just a little younger. Well, he was 16 now, not 18 as his graduation photo had shown him. He looked good. At the moment his eyebrows rose in surprise and a slight smile appeared at his features.

“Oh, that’s why,” he held out his hand to her and hesitatingly, she took it.

“Miss Otis.”

His skin was warm and his grip firm, but not bruising like many other boys’, especially that of Quidditch players.

“H-hi,” she muttered and felt the heat creeping to her cheeks again at his interested look.

“It’s Virginia, Ginny, to be precise ...” she stuttered and cursed herself for that damned shyness that captured her every clear thought once again.

Tom smiled at her. He looked incredibly, breathtakingly good when he did.

“Pleased to meet you - Ginny. I’m Tom. Tom Riddle.”

“Hello Tom.” She felt a funny fluttering in the pit of her stomach that was well familiar from every time she had looked at Harry in the recent four years. But there was also an odd tickling sensation at the back of  neck that caused all the little hairs there to stand on end. A slight shiver ran down her spine, she could not tell if it was from excitement or fear.

When he slowly released her hand and took the seat next to hers, she suddenly noticed, she had still held it. Blushing furiously, she put her hand down, wrapped it into the other one and stared down at her knees.

‘ _Brilliant,_ ’ she thought, _‘this can’t possibly get any worse. Now he’ll think I’m a coy little fool, like Harry and everyone else thinks anyway.’_

“Here is the schedule for 4th year Slytherin classes, Miss Otis,“ the Headmaster told her. “You can choose your elective subjects later on. Which ones did you attend at your old school, by the way?“

“Miss Otis..” he requested, when she did not look up at once.

With that, Ginny snapped out of her thoughts.

“Huu – oh… Divinations and Care Of Magical Creatures, sir.”

“Ah, perhaps it is best for you to take those ones now, too.”

She just nodded in agreement.

“Well, if there is nothing else to discuss at the moment, I suggest you lead Miss Otis down to your common room now, Mr. Riddle.”

“By the way, is Professor Futhark at his office at the moment?”

Tom shook his head at that. “No sir, he’s teaching right now.”

“Ah yes, of course, the third years. I forgot,” Dippet chuckled.

“So you will have to introduce yourself to him in the afternoon, Miss Otis. Professor Futhark is the Head of Slytherin House. He is teaching Ancient Runes,” he explained.

“Well then, if there is any problem, don’t be shy to come to my office, or ask Mr Riddle for help, will you? I suggest you should better head for your common room now. You both have lessons to attend.”

Ψ

They exited the office and descended the spiral staircase in silence.

Ginny shot several secret side glances at Tom every now and then. He certainly looked good, even better than in the yearbook picture. Who would have supposed Voldemort had been such a hottie as a teen? She immediately corrected her thoughts – No, this was _not_ Voldemort now – and he would never become him, if she could help it. This was Tom, the boy from the diary, to whom she had spilled all her secrets once. Except that he did not know this yet. A slight grin slipped across her lips. Just that moment, he turned his face towards her and their eyes locked by surprise. In her eager attempt to appear unaffected and casual, Ginny tripped over her own feet and almost fell.

“Look out!” his left hand rushed up and reached for her. He steadied her by gripping her upper arm and she came into balance again. 

For a few seconds they stared at each other, Ginny with shock and he with a quite unreadable expression, before a slight smile appeared on his lips that made her heart flutter.

“You need to be careful with the stairs at Hogwarts. Most of them are moving and keep changing directions from time to time.”

“Oh,” was all she could say at the moment. She was quite well aware of the fact that the spiral staircase was moving ever since they had stepped on it, but was glad; he obviously tried to make her feel less awkward about her tipsiness.

‘ _Wow, very original. I’m sure he’s impressed by you,_ ’ she complemented herself sarcastically.

She normally was not this tongue-tied or clumsy, except in Harry’s presence. Maybe it was because she felt a little frightened around Tom. After all he had once tried to kill her and made her do things she would rather not remember.

Again she corrected her train of thought. She had to stop thinking of these memories as the past – it was the future now – or maybe it was not even that.  

When they reached the wide Entrance Hall, which was deserted during morning lessons, Tom looked at her once more.

“Can I help you with your luggage, or has it been brought down to Slytherin House already?”

“Oh no, it’s here,” she stuttered nervously and started to fumble with the pocket of her robes.

Tom’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I’ve shrunken my trunk so it fits into my pocket, you see?” with that, she grabbed the matchbox-sized trunk and held it out to him in the palm of her hand. His bottle-green eyes lit with amusement at that.

“Wow, a pocket-trunk! That’s some idea,” he remarked, grinning. “I’ve never thought of that possibility. You must be pretty good at Transfiguration, aren’t you?”

Ginny blushed. “It’s my favourite subject,” she exclaimed proudly.

“There’s no doubt about that.”

Tom smiled at her once again and beside the nervous fluttering that crept through the pit of her stomach, it made her feel quite good and less frightened.

“Mine is Defence Against The Dark Arts,” he added.

Ginny almost blurted out with laughter at the joke in and on itself, but bit her tongue just in time.

“Well, that’s an important subject also,“ she remarked cautiously. Tom gave her an interested look.

“Oh, it might be overestimated, if you ask me.”   

Ginny held her breath. Was that supposed to mean, what she thought it did? An uncomfortable tickling sensation crept down her spine again.

“Why?” she asked carefully. 

Tom’s dark-green eyes seemed to seek her out.

“What do you mean?” she repeated tensely and he stared at her thoughtfully.

After a few seconds he looked away.

“Oh, just that there are other important subjects, like Charms or Transfiguration or Potions,” he added thoughtfully. 

They descended the stairs to the dungeons right now and passed the one where she used to have Potions. The door was closed at the moment. Probably because a lesson was being  held. Ginny shuddered. She tried to get used to the fact that it would not be Professor Snape who was teaching in there – that he was not even born yet. It was a strange thought and it once again showed, how very far she had travelled into the past.  

Dark shadows lured in every corner and their footsteps echoed hollow along the deserted corridors. But their way led them even deeper down into the darkness.

Ψ

Tom, who noticed her uneasiness, smiled encouraging at the shy red-head beside him.

But for some reason, she did not seem to relax at this. She only flinched and stared to the floor. He could not tell why, but she seemed to be terribly nervous about something. They followed a winding corridor and descended another long staircase whose lowest steps faded somewhere into the darkness.

Once again, Tom turned his head to look at the girl. She bit her lip. Although it was certainly none of his concern, he felt a little sorry for her. Maybe it was because she was so small and fragile, he was not sure of it, but she looked so frightened and out of place.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, “we’re almost there.”

She looked up and smiled hesitatingly at him. “Is it always this dark down here?”

“Oh no, don’t worry. It’s just these parts of the dungeons. The tract where the common room and the dormitories are, does have light-wells and even some small windows.”

Her head snapped up at this.

“How’s that possible?” she asked confused.

“Hogwarts was built into a boulder above the lake,” he explained. “There are different heights in the fundament. Most parts of the dungeons reach deep down into the bedrock, but not all of them.”     

Ψ

If Ginny had not known better, she would have thought he might be trying to be _nice_ to her. But that was hardly possible, was it?

While she still wondered what to think of this, he suddenly stopped in front of a bare stone wall and looked at her. The torches’ guttering flame dipped his face into an odd interchange of light and shadows and his voice echoed back from the walls in the long corridor, when he spoke.

“Here’s the entrance to our common room,” he told her. “The password is ‘Algiz’ at the moment.”

Ginny’s head snapped up with surprise.

“That’s a rune,” he explained at her stunned look.

“I know it’s a rune,” she frowned. “I have Divination as an elective subject, don’t you remember?”

“Oh yes,” he smiled apologetically at her, “I’m sorry.” Then he frowned himself. “Do you study Ancient Runes in Divination?” he asked surprised.

Ginny bit her lip. “Oh, just the basics,” she shrugged casually. It was true, they had learned the shapes and names of the runic alphabet in her Divination class and she could only hope these days’ curriculum included them as well, but most of her little knowledge about the matter came from the Graduation essay he himself would write two years from now. It had been there that she had read of the meaning of the rune he had just mentioned.

Algiz – the rune of warding, used to protect a person or place. Quite suitable for a ward on the entrance to the common room. But if it appeared in a sense of divination, it could also tell of an ethical dilemma, new opportunities and a challenge. Well, in this way it was quite suitable to her current situation as well, she decided.

When she looked up at Tom, she noticed he was again watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Aces,” he smiled. “If you already know the shape and name of the various runes, it certainly helps. We had to put extra wards on the entrance as some nosy Gryffindors happened to sneak around spying in the dungeons lately. You’ll have to draw the rune’s shape onto the wall, while saying the password.”

With that he took out his wand and Ginny’s eyes widened with fear. This was the wand that would cast Avada Kedavra on so many people, Harry’s parents and himself included.

Insecurely, she lifted her head to look at the dark-haired boy beside her. His bottle-green eyes locked with her brown ones and she flinched once more.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked, confused.

“N-nothing,” she stuttered miserably.   

“Good,” he smiled and turned to the wall again. Carefully, he traced the tip of his wand across the raw stone wall. The rune looked similar to the letter Y. But the vertical part continued in the upwards direction.

“Algiz,” Tom muttered and Ginny shivered at the odd effect his low whisper had on her nerves.

Slowly, an archway appeared in the bare stone wall and gave view to the Slytherin common room.

When she noticed Tom waiting for her to step in first, her eyes widened with surprise. She had not expected such politeness. Harry had never ever held any door open for her.

Slowly and carefully, she stepped inside. Tom followed close behind her and with a low hiss, the archway disappeared. Nervously, Ginny turned around and became aware of the fact that all other students were in class right then. She was all alone with Tom Riddle in the Slytherin common room.

It was nothing like the Gryffindor common room, she noticed. It was not half as cosy, but larger and darker. Round, greenish lamps spread a dim light. She noticed they were hanging on chains from the low ceiling. Walls and ceiling were of raw, uneven stone. 

Like Tom had said, there were some light-wells in the back of the room, but they spread only a little light. She would not have noticed they were there, if she had not been looking for them.

“What’s your next lesson?” Tom asked all of a sudden and she snapped out of her reverie.

“Oh em,” she consulted her new schedule. “It’s History, with Hufflepuff.”

Tom smiled sympathetically at her. “Oh, that’s an iffy start, I suppose. The mere thought of Professor Binns’ lesson gets everyone sleepy. Half the school is convinced that he’ll bore himself to death one day.”

Ginny nearly croaked with surprise at that. “So-o he, he isn’t a ghost, then?”

Tom gave her an odd look at this. “No, what makes you think so?”

“Emm, I just thought … never mind …” she stuttered.

He shrugged. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t make much difference anyway. It’s probably Peeves you’ve heard about. He’s a poltergeist and he only _‘lives’_ to annoy everyone else to death. I suggest, you don’t hurry so much with getting ready for class and spare yourself the History lesson. It’s halfway over, anyway. Just unpack a few things, I’ll wait in the common room. The girls’ dormitories are over there.”

He pointed at a spiral staircase in the back of the room. At least this was similar to Gryffindor tower.

Ginny hesitated. The suggestion was certainly tempting.

“But what about your own lesson, Tom?” she asked carefully. “Won’t you get in trouble, if you stay away too long?”

“Oh no, don’t worry. I’ve Transfiguration right now and I don’t mind if I miss it. Dumbledore –“ he trailed off then added, “Well, lets say, he isn’t my favourite teacher.”

Ginny flinched slightly. ‘ _Well, that’s no surprise,_ ’ she thought.

Ψ

When she reached the top of the staircase, she quickly found the fourth year girls’ dormitory. Tom had been right about the windows in here as well.

Right opposite the door, three deep nooks reached into the thick stone wall, high enough for a person to stand inside. The windows at their end were of half-transparent green and yellowish glass. They threw a mosaic of green and yellow onto the stone floor and added a dreamlike atmosphere to the room.

She stepped into one of the nooks and opened the small upper part of the window. Warm, golden sunlight floated into the room. A mild wind ruffled her hair, when she leaned forward to have a look outside. This part of the castle was surrounded by water. Bright sunlight reflected on its smooth surface, about fifty meters beneath her feet.

Bright and clear the lake stretched up in the distance to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She could hear the wind whispering in the thick green leaves. It was only now that she noticed it was _summer_ in this time. That must have been what had occurred as odd to her, when she had looked out of the small window in front of Dippet’s office earlier. Well, she could hardly expect to get out at the exact same point of season, if she travelled this far through time.

Summer was fine with her. Smiling, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back so that her face was bathed in warm sunlight and inhaled the mild air. It held the smell of weeds, sun and earth – the lovely smell of summer.

Carefully, she closed the window and turned around. There were five large four-posters in the dormitory. Two on the right and three on the left of the room. Each had a dark wood chest of drawers by its side. But instead of scarlet-red colour, the curtains were of thick, emerald-green velvet. There were curtains of the same material next to the window-nooks as well, she noticed. At the moment, they were drawn to the sides and covered the wall between the nooks.  

Four of the beds had a heavy trunk at their feet, only the last on the left that was next to her was free. She put her trunk down at the foot of this bed and pointed her wand at it.

“Engorgio,” she muttered and the trunk enlarged to its usual size. With a sigh of satisfaction, Ginny collapsed onto the bed. She would unpack later on.

Ψ

When she descended the stairs to the common room again, Tom looked up from the book he had been reading. He was seated in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. As it was summer right now, there was no fire in its hearth.

“Shall we go then?” he asked and she nodded. Once again they passed the archway in the wall and headed for the exit of the dungeons. 

“What class do you have now?” Tom asked while they ascended the stairs to the Entrance Hall.

“Charms,” Ginny smiled. She still was not exactly comfortable in his presence, but she was getting used to it.

“Ah, that’s better. Flitwick is nice enough,” he remarked. Then the conversation ebbed away. They ascended another flight of stairs in silence and Ginny had to be careful not to let Tom notice that she knew the direction. 

“You’ll need to introduce yourself to Professor Futhark later this day,” he remarked suddenly and she flinched. _‘So much for getting used to his presence,_ ’ she thought.

“I’m seeing him about a project this afternoon, anyway. If you like, I can show you the way to his office and introduce you to him,” he offered. 

Ginny blinked, she could hardly believe her ears.

”Oh…um, yes. Yes! That would be nice,” she stammered, confused.

“Meet me in the common room at four o’clock,” Tom told her. He did not smile, nor did he give away any other kind of emotion, but she decided this had to be a good sign.

Ψ

The door was already closed when they arrived, and Tom knocked three times, before he entered the room.

A tiny little wizard stood on top of a pile of large books behind his desk and a young girl with light-brown pig-tails was writing some rules on the board. She looked strangely familiar.

The wizard turned his head to look at them.

“Professor Flitwick,” Tom addressed him and Ginny was caught by surprise. Like Dumbledore, he looked much younger. Even now, he was quite old, but his hair and moustache were of a dark grey colour instead of white as they would be her day. He was probably no older than eighty by now. At their entry, he had lowered his wand. “Ah, Mr. Riddle, what is it?”

Tom stepped forward. “This is a new student, Professor. Miss Virginia Otis. She is a member of Slytherin House.”

With that, he shoved her into the room. “Good luck,” he whispered.

“Thank you Tom. Till later,” Ginny muttered.

“Till later, Ginny.” With a last encouraging smile in her direction he left the room.

Slowly, she turned around to face her new class and house members. Everyone was staring at her and she felt she was turning bright red again. ‘ _Damn that pale traitors Weasley skin.’_

Professor Flitwick smiled at her, too. “Well then, Miss Otis, you can take that seat next to Miss Mirth over there. By the window, do you see?”

Some sniggering filled the room as Ginny moved towards the last free seat next to a plain, shy Hufflepuff girl with straight mouse-brown hair. Frightened brown eyes stared at her from behind thick glasses.

Ginny smiled at the shy looking girl, who shifted uneasily in her seat and Ginny wondered what was wrong with her. She certainly did not look that frightening, did she? But for some reason that Hufflepuff girl seemed to be scared by the prospect to be seated next to her.

_‘Well, you better get used to it. You’re Slytherin now_ ,’ Ginny reminded herself, _‘maybe that’s why._ ’

_‘Had this house ever had a better reputation than it did in her own time?’_ she wondered. Well, maybe it wasn’t a real surprise. The one Dark wizard – Grindelwald – was not even defeated yet and the next one was already doubting the usefulness of his Defence Against The Dark Arts class.

She tried another friendly smile.

“Hi, I’m Ginny,” and held out her hand for the other girl, “what’s your name?”

The girl nearly dropped out of her seat. Suspiciously she stared at the offered hand for a few seconds before she took it – reluctantly. Her grip was weak and she drew her hand back as soon as she had touched Ginny’s. 

“M-myrtle,” she muttered timidly. “Myrtle Mirth.”

“I hope you don’t mind me sitting here, Myrtle,” Ginny said.

“Oh, no,” Myrtle blushed and shook her head. “It’s just that…” she bit her lip. “Are you really in Slytherin?” she asked suspiciously and glanced at the green and silver Slytherin crest on the front of Ginny’s robe.  

Ginny followed her gaze. “Well it looks like it, doesn’t it?” she smiled at her once more. “Yes, I’m in Slytherin. Why, shouldn’t I be?”

Myrtle hesitated, awkwardly she scratched her nose. “Well, _you_ seem to be quite nice, so …”

“Oh and that’s not common for Slytherins?” Ginny asked.

“I –I don’t know,” Myrtle muttered embarrassed.

At that Professor Flitwick clapped his hands. “No time for chatting, Ladies, I’m afraid. Please pay attention to the lesson now!” 

He turned to the familiar looking girl at the board. “Please continue with listing the instructions, Miss Sprout.”

Ginny gasped with surprise. Now she knew what had been so familiar about that girl. She was sitting in class with Liana Sprout, later Herbology Professor and Head of Hufflepuff. If this was not odd, she did not know what was. Carefully, she let her eyes wander around the classroom, to check for further surprises.

There was a pale, silvery-blond girl, who reminded her strongly of Draco Malfoy; and a dark-haired boy, who resembled Snape, but otherwise there was no connection to the future.

Ψ

After the lesson a pair of Slytherin girls joined her in the corridor outside.

“Hi,” a tall, lean girl with green eyes and shiny, dark-brown hair approached her.

“I’m Olive Hornby,” she exclaimed and tilted her head at a smaller girl with golden-olive shimmering skin, black eyes and thick, chin-length jet-black curls.

“That’s Rabia Aydin.” 

“Hi,” Rabia smiled, “Virginia, wasn’t it?”

Ginny just nodded in confusion, she had been so sure the Malfoy-ish looking girl would be in Slytherin as well. Olive, who had followed her gaze back to the classroom, added, “Righto, there are also Cathrina Malfoy and Lilith Crabbe, but they are probably still chatting about Cathrina’s Mr. Wonderful; her cousin, Lucretius Malfoy. He’s a 7th year,” she explained at Ginny’s confused look.

“She has a crush on her – cousin?“ Ginny asked startled. “Huu?”

“Yes, it’s quite funny, isn’t it? She’s supposed to marry him. It has been set since ages ago, but now he has actually asked her out to Hogsmeade and she has such a crush on him, she’s really luckier than all get out!”

Ginny shook her head to clear it from confusion. “She is going to marry her cousin?” she asked, thunderstruck. 

“Yes,” Olive shrugged, “it’s a quite a common habit in the old wizarding families, especially with the Malfoys’. But it’s funny that they have such a thing for each other. Their fathers are brothers, so they are both Malfoys. And they look very much alike. It’s kind of sweet, don’t you think so?”

“Hmm,” Ginny just shrugged.     

“I see you’ve already met Moaning Myrtle?” Olive grinned. “She’s a broad-assed nitwit.”

“Sssht, Olive,“ Rabia warned uneasily, “she’s listening.”

“So what?” Olive shrugged, “One should be allowed to have a little fun.”

“I don’t think that’s funny at all,” Ginny frowned at her.

Olive’s eyes widened in surprise at that.

“I don’t like things like that,” Ginny exclaimed. “It’s no fun to pick on someone, who is too afraid to fight back.”

“If she doesn’t fight back, she deserves to be picked on,” Olive declared carelessly. 

“I don’t think I like your attitude,“ Ginny told her. “Did you ever consider what it means to her?”

“Oh, don’t tell me, you like plain, stupid cry-babies? Are you sure they shouldn’t have put you into goody-goody Gryffindor!?” Olive mocked.

“Yes, very sure,” Ginny glared at her and reached for her wand. “Shall I prove it to you?!”

“Hey girls, no need to get at each other’s throats,” a melodious voice cut into their fight. Cathrina Malfoy had arrived, a pale, shrew-mouse-faced, sandy-haired girl at her heels.

“Rabia, run off to comfort Moaning Myrtle, if you’re that worried about her.”

The addressed grinned at her, but Ginny noticed she threw a concerned glance at the awkward Hufflepuff girl, who shuffled away, her head bowed. 

The Malfoy-ish looking girl turned her head to Olive and frowned.

“And you, Olive Hornby, should be more careful. If you don’t care about what people think of _your_ manners, you should at least think what damage you do to Slytherin. We have a reputation to hold up, especially these days, and impoliteness does more damage to our reputation than you might realise.”

“Why should I be polite to a stupid cow like her? Not even her own house mates like her.”

“You needn’t _like_ her,” Cathrina declared, acidly, “that’s not the point of it!” 

Rabia rolled her eyes at Ginny. “That’s Cathrina, she’s a little snobbish and bossy, but otherwise, quite nice,” she grinned once more. “Since her dear cousin is Head Boy, it’s even worse with her. The other one is Lilith Crabbe, her very shadow. She doesn’t speak much. I’m still not sure what to think of her.”

Right then, Cathrina turned her head in Ginny’s direction and exposed a row of pearl white teeth at her smile.

“So you’re new at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, I’m Ginny W-eww- Otis,” she stuttered. If she was not much mistaken this had to be Draco’s granny.

“Welcome to Slytherin, Ginny.”

Ginny took the pale beauty’s hand. “Thank you, Cathrina.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, we should head for Potions now.” With that she gracefully turned around and left. Lilith and Olive immediately followed. 

Rabia ginned at Ginny. “Do you see what I meant now? She’s like that _all the time_. But one gets used to it.”

Ginny decided she was lucky to have Rabia in her house. She seemed to be nice enough. The other girls seemed to be a little stuck up at best.

“Come on now,” Rabia urged her, “I’ll show you the way to the Potions classroom. It’s close to the entrance of our common room. By the way, do you already know the password?”      

“Oh-w-er yes, “ Ginny muttered, “Tom gave it to me.”

Rabia’s eyes went wide at that. “Tom Riddle?” she gasped.  

“Yes,” Ginny nodded. “He led me from the Headmaster’s office to our common room, so I could leave my belongings at the dorm; and he showed me the way to the Charms room afterwards.”

“Don’t let Olive hear of this,” Rabia giggled.

“Why?” Ginny asked nervously. “Is she dating him?”

‘ _That would be brilliant,_ ’ she thought to herself. What a fun, if she would have travelled all those years through time, just to find the boy in question dating another girl there.

“No.” Rabia grinned, “But she umm… probably would, if he asked her.”

“Ohh-” Ginny released her breath. She could not deny it, she was relieved about this.

“He’s rather cute, isn’t he?” Rabia teased.

“Ohh mmm, yes, he’s not bad,” Ginny shrugged and flinched at her own statement.

When they rounded a corner and descended a flight of steps, she noticed they had almost reached the Potions classroom.

“Who’s teaching Potions?” Ginny asked.

“Oh, that’s Professor O’Malley,” Rabia told her.

“Is he – emm, is he – strict?” Ginny asked, once again reminded of her own time‘s Potions Master.

“Oh no,” the other girl laughed, “he’s no trouble at all. He’s Head of Ravenclaw. But he’s quite old already and the rumour is going that he’ll retire at the end of the year and Professor Flitwick will get the post. As Head of Ravenclaw,” she added, “not as a Potions Master.”  

“Indeed?” Ginny asked with amusement, “That’s interesting.”

“Awem, speaking of Potions,” Rabia began, “we are mostly working in pairs. You haven’t met the boys yet, have you?”

Ginny shook her head. “No, what about them?”

“Oh they are quite nice, but there are six of them, so they are always working with each other. And Cathrina is working along with Lilith. Therefore I’m usually paired up with Olive,” she pulled a face. “I’m sorry, but you’ll probably have to work with one of the Gryffindors.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Ginny shrugged.

But Rabia shook her head. “You don’t know the Gryffindors,” she said with a grave sigh. 

**A/N:** I hope you liked this chapter.

I decided to name each chapter after a specific rune that’s meaning suites the content.

The third rune, ALGIZ is a rune of warding, as it is explained in the story. I choose the kind of symbol that resembles the rune to separate the single sections in each chapter.

Smiles, Serpentina


	4. OTHILIA

When they stepped into the dim atmosphere of the Potions dungeon, Ginny almost immediately turned towards the Gryffindor side of the classroom out of habit, but Rabia caught her arm.

“Hey, watch it! That’s the wrong side,” she grinned. “We’re sitting over here. Come on.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked in confusion, when her new friend did not react, but starred open-mouthed at the two identical-looking boys with fiery red hair and an equally huge amount of freckles.

Ginny was completely taken aback at what she saw. These twins had to be related to her. If she was not much mistaken and these two were granduncle Jonathan’s younger brothers, one of them was her grandpa Frederic and the other one had to be granduncle Gregory, who had never married and who seemed always to be surrounded by a cloud of melancholy.

At the moment neither of them appeared very sad, though. The two boys did not look like Fred and George, but resembled Ron to a surprising degree.

“That’s the Weasley twins,” Rabia whispered and dragged Ginny away towards the Slytherin side. “They are a lot of trouble, believe me. No one is safe from their pranks. They are in Gryffindor, of course, like the whole lot of them.”

At that Ginny’s frown deepened. Rabia might be really nice to her, but she certainly should not insult her family like that. On the other hand she had to admit that the other girl could hardly know about her relations, but she felt slightly annoyed by her comment nonetheless. While she was still wondering how to react, Rabia had already continued.

“Not that they aren’t cute. Especially Greg,” she grinned and winked an eye at Ginny. “But you’d better watch it around them.”

She suddenly stopped and stared at Ginny in disbelief. “Crimeny, are you really sure you aren’t related to them in some way? You could be cousins or even sibs from your looks. That’s completely weird. Wow-”

Not only Rabia seemed to have noticed this. The twins appeared equally shocked as Ginny and all their classmates watched them with interest.

When Ginny sat down on the bench behind Rabia and Olive, the latter turned to her with a nasty grin.

“Once again, redhead, are you really sure you belong in Slytherin?” she taunted with a meaningful look at the twins.

Ginny did not know how to respond, but there was no time for an answer anyway as Professor O’Malley entered the classroom.

He was a very old, friendly looking wizard with a large white moustache and an otherwise bald head. His cheeks were slightly pink and his deep brown eyes twinkled behind small round glasses. There could not have been more contrast to her own time’s Potions Master, Ginny decided and smiled at the old man.

“Ah- what do I see? Is this another Weasley in our midst?” he asked.

Olive greeted this question with a soft snorting noise. Ginny felt herself blushing – she should have thought about this.

“No, sir, I’m Virginia Otis,” she muttered nervously.

“Oh,” Professor O’Malley coughed slightly, when his eyes fell to the Slytherin crest on the front of her robes.

“Anyway. Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Otis. What good fortune, now we’re an even number finally. You’d best pair up with Miss McGonagall. She is the black-haired young lady over there.”

At the shocked gasp that escaped Ginny’s lips at this order, his face fell all of a sudden.

“Yes, she is a Gryffindor student, but that won’t cause any problems between the two of you, will it?”

Ginny felt every pair of eyes resting on her. The Slytherins watched her with interest and some amusement, while the Gryffindors glared at her for this impudence. Once again she was not quite sure how to react.

“No, of course not,” she hurried to assure the old man and moved over towards the advised seat.

Minerva McGonagall looked kind of suspicious. Like everyone else she had taken Ginny’s reaction to be caused by the enmity between Slytherins and Gryffindors. 

None of them could know that she had only been shocked by the prospect of sitting next to her future deputy headmistress and Head of House. In accordance with this, Minerva’s welcome was more than frosty.

Unwillingly, she made room for Ginny to sit on the bench beside her. Even at the age of fourteen she was able to fix her opponent with that trademark stare of hers, which made one regret anything one might have ever done wrong.

Forcing her worries back, Ginny swallowed and looked at the other girl.

“I’m Virginia Otis,” she began, but Minerva McGonagall did not look any more friendly at that.

“I’ve already heard that,” she sniffed and pressed her lips into a thin line.

“I’m Minerva McGonagall and I certainly didn’t ask for this seating arrangement either. I’ve managed very well to brew my potions alone so far and I can only hope you won’t try to pull any stupid pranks on me.”

With that she turned her head to the front of the classroom again and pretended to be oblivious to Ginny’s presence.

Ginny stared at her out of narrowed eyes. That was most obviously not a good start. Future Head of House or not, she was really mad at her at the moment. How dare she to be this mean to her, when she did not even know her at all? She would have gladly called her a number of zoological names, but bit her tongue.

“Stuck up goose,” she could not resist muttering under her breath, “no wonder she’s a cat.”

“What?!” McGonagall’s head snapped up and her eyes grew wide with surprise. She had obviously heard her and looked kind of worried all of a sudden.

“Oh, nothing.” Ginny just sent her a sweet little smile and turned her attention back to the front of the classroom. They did not speak to each other during the rest of the lesson.

Λ

X

Tom played with the light-grey feather quill in his hands, while he listened to Professor Binns’ endless lecture with minimal interest. His mind was still preoccupied with the pretty redhead he had met earlier. There was something strange about her, he could not put his finger on.

But he certainly had other matters to think about at the moment. He mostly preferred to be on his own anyway. It was simply what he was used to. He had always been alone. The muggle children at the orphanage had either feared or disliked him because of all the little misfortunes and strange things that seemed to happen around him. Miss Somerville, the beastly old directress, had given him and everyone who had been so unlucky as to get involved in the happenings, lots of detentions and punishments. He had always been the queer bird, who slipped from one spot of trouble into the next.    

When, on his eleventh birthday, his Hogwarts letter had arrived, he had understood lots of things all of a sudden and the sealed letter that his mother had left for him at the orphanage, had answered some more questions. She had obviously asked the directress to give him the letter the day after his 11th birthday, but only if he had received post the day before. She must have known she was going to die, he supposed.

Since he was born in November, he had had to wait almost a whole year until he could finally go and when he had started at Hogwarts he had hoped to find some friends there. Someone to finally understand and welcome him, but once again he had been rejected.

His house mates had looked down upon him because he was no pureblood wizard, while the students of the other houses avoided him as a Slytherin. Once again, he had been all alone and so he had developed an almost desperate wish to find out more about his family. The one on his mother’s side of course, not the traitorous muggle one. His mother had told him her maiden name in her letter. So he had started to search the old yearbooks for her until he had finally found her in the book of 1923. Margery Mackenzie, a beautiful 18-year-old witch with long, shining jet-black hair and deep, bottle-green eyes.

For a long time he had just come back to look at her photo and see her smile at him, but some day in his second year, he had decided to find out more about her ancestors, too. She and all her family had been in Slytherin like him. He had continued to look up the names of her parents, grandparents and so on, until he had discovered the first connection to Salazar Slytherin in the year 1703. When he came across one Gerald Potter among his ancestors and just looked up his parents, he had found out that Alice Potter’s maiden name had been Slytherin. Her father had died, leaving two daughters, but no son and therefore the surname had disappeared.

At first he had been shocked about the discovery that he was not only of an old wizarding bloodline on his mother’s side, but even a descendent of Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Slytherin house himself. This was finally the explanation, why the sorting hat had accepted him, a half-blood, to join Slytherin house.

He had been all excited about his discovery that he was not just equal to his house members, but even someone very special. He had followed every hint during the past years and had finally reconstructed his bloodline back to Salazar Slytherin himself and had found out that he was, indeed, his descendent.

As a Prefect he had free access to the restricted section now and he planned to search it for every book or roll of parchment that held information about his famous ancestor. He had already found his autobiography that was kept in there. When he had turned the ancient book in his hands a thin, yellowish roll of parchment had fallen out of its back. The paper was so old that he had been worried to damage it when he had unrolled the note. He was sure, it had to have some kind of Age Blocking Charm on itself as it must have remained in the book for almost a thousand years. Slowly and very carefully he had smoothed the paper with his hands, but what it had revealed to him was kind of a disappointment.

It contained row after row of an unfamiliar language. The text was written in ordinary letters, but the words had the oddest arrangement he had ever seen. He had kept the roll from the book and tried to figure out its meaning, without any successes. He had tried to read only special letters in the text and draw them together into a word he knew. Just the front letters for example, or only every seventh one. He had compared it to texts in Trollish, Mareish, Goblinish, Elfish and to every human language he could find a written text in, but it had been to no use so far. He simply could not figure out what it was supposed to mean. Maybe he would make some progress this afternoon.

Λ

X

After the lesson Ginny re-joined Rabia and the other girls in the corridor. Cathrina and Olive did not even look up from their conversation, when the Slytherin boys approached the little group with an interested look on their faces. Lilith got all giggly all of a sudden and threw secret glances into the direction of a huge, brown-haired boy, who smiled at her as soon as their eyes met.

It was quite obvious that these two had a thing for each other. Ginny had not much time to think about this, though. The Snape-ish looking boy stepped forward.

“I’m Sam Snape,” he told her without the hint of a smile. After a brief glance over his shoulder he nodded to the nearest boy.

“That’s Argus Filch.”

The addressed, a plain looking, quite thin boy with dark-blond hair smiled shyly at her before he lowered his black eyes to the ground. Ginny had to recover from shock first. She would have never recognized the evil, foul-tempered caretaker of the Hogwarts of her time in this pale, insecure boy.

“Honestly Sam, you’re as charming as a Dementor,” a handsome boy with dark-blond hair smiled and looked in her direction. His ice-blue eyes twinkled mischievously, Ginny noticed with surprise that he was actually flirting with her.

“I’m Lestât Lestrange. Nice to meet you, Virginia.”

Confused, Ginny smiled back at all three of them. “Hi.”

“Hey guys,” a brown-eyed, brown-haired boy with glasses interrupted nervously, “Couldn’t we hurry up a little? I want to drop by the library before lunch.”

Rabia giggled at this.

“Oh Pat, are you really worried anyone might catch that boring potions book O‘Malley mentioned, from right under your nose, if you don’t hurry straight to the library?”

She turned her head towards Ginny and rolled her eyes.

“That’s Patrick Parkinson, he is always worried someone might get a book he wants to borrow before him. He is a little mad about his studies, but otherwise quite nice and you can always count on him, if you have trouble with some homework.”

Ginny, who did not know what to say to this statement, returned Patrick’s smile. An auburn-haired boy with bright blue eyes threw a nervous glance at his watch.

“Yeah, old Pat is better than any lexicon and he’s right about the time, too. I don’t mean to be rude ladies, but I really need to hurry now.” He looked at her with oddly familiar twinkling bright-blue eyes.

“I’m David Dumbledore, by the way. See you later, Virginia, OK?” he smiled and with a short wave he ran off.

Ginny’s head snapped up at the name. “Dumbledore?” she frowned confused.

“Righto, Dumbledore, like the Transfiguration teacher,” Rabia nodded.

“He’s on the Quidditch team,” Sam Snape exclaimed.

“Is he his son?” Ginny asked confused, but Rabia shook her head.

“No, his nephew. Everyone was shocked, when the sorting hat put him into Slytherin. Professor Dumbledore is the Head of Gryffindor,” she added with a grin.

At this Cathrina Malfoy, who had been chatting with Olive all the time, cut into the conversation.

“We’re heading off for lunch now. Are you coming, too?”

“Ah, Her Highness is gathering her ladies in waiting round herself,” Rabia muttered with a grin. Aloud she called: “No, just go ahead, we’re coming soon.”

Lilith Crabbe on the contrary separated reluctantly from the huge, brown-haired boy, she had been talking to.

“See you later, Oliver,” Ginny heard her mutter before she moved over towards Cathrina and Olive.

Rabia, who had followed Ginny’s gaze, grinned at her. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. That’s Oliver Goyle, Lilith’s sweetheart.”

Ginny’s eyes widened at this. ‘ _Oh, that’s why,’_ she thought with amusement. Aloud she asked: “Are they dating?”

“Almost,” Rabia grinned and continued at Ginny’s confused look, “Well, not yet, but it can’t take them very much longer. Wouldn’t you like to go outside, for lunch?” she asked with a smile. “We could sit beneath a tree in the grounds and eat some fruit? It’s far too warm for some real lunch in the Great Hall, don’t you think so?”

Although Ginny had not had any breakfast that day, she could only agree to this. She felt a little worn out by the sudden change of seasons that came along with the time travelling. She had started on a cold, rainy February’s day after all and the unexpected heat of the bright September’s day really got to her.

Λ

X

Minutes later she was leaning with her back against the rough bark of an old beech-tree in the grounds biting into a poison-green apple.

The warm rays of midday sun peered down on her through the light-green leaves and drew an irregular pattern of light and shadow onto the grass. Rabia had seated herself down on the sunny lawn in a cross-legged position and ate a nectarine. She had rolled the sleeves of her robe up to her elbows.

Ginny envied her for her olive-golden shimmering skin. Rabia would not burn as easily as her, with her pale Weasley skin, which was now, after the long winter months of her own time, even more sensitive. It was probably wise to stay out of the bright sun for the first few days.

Rabia, who had finished her nectarine by now, pulled a box of strawberries out of her bag and handed it to Ginny.

“Help yourself.”

Ginny did not hesitate to accept this invitation. Both girls enjoyed their lunch break in the sun.

“I can give you a tour around the grounds and the castle this afternoon, if you like,” Rabia suggested all of a sudden.

“That would be fun, I suppose,” Ginny sighed, “but I’m supposed to introduce myself to Professor Futhark, you know?”

“Oh yes, of course,” Rabia smiled, “I almost forgot. Do you want me to show you the way to his office then?”

“No. Erw, I mean that would be nice of you, but Tom already promised to show me the way,” Ginny muttered nervously.

Rabia looked at her in complete surprise at that and Ginny felt herself immediately blush under her intense stare. She was furious with herself that she did, but nonetheless she could not help it. Just when she thought she could not bear it any longer, the other girl’s face broke into a broad smile.

“Indeed?” she mocked, “Well, in that case – I can hardly compete with an offer like that.”

Λ

X

At exactly four o’ clock, Ginny entered the common room. It was almost completely empty, since most students were out in the grounds, but Tom was already there waiting for her. 

He looked up from the book he had been reading and smiled at her. “Shall we go?”

Ginny could not help the nervousness that captured her as soon as his bottle-green eyes looked at her. Temporarily mute, she just nodded. They walked out of the common room and passed the dimly lit dungeons once again. When they crossed the vast Entrance Hall and ascended the wide marble staircase, the merry sound of  laughter drifted in from outside through the wide open front doors. Ginny doubted that anyone stayed inside the castle on a day like this, if he or she could help it. Tom led her through a couple of long corridors. Professor Futhark’s office was on the second floor, towards the rear of the school. She was mad with herself that she was not able to overcome her damn shyness and start a simple conversation, but maybe she was still too much afraid of him. She had to get used to the thought that he was not Voldemort yet, if she wanted to make him notice her.

In front of a plain wooden door Tom stopped and looked at her.

“Here it is,” he said and knocked.

A quite strident voice answered from inside. “Yes? What is it?”

Ginny immediately flinched back, but Tom just cleared his throat and called. “It’s Riddle, sir. I’m bringing the new student.”

“Enter,” the voice behind the door ordered a little more mildly and suddenly Ginny was more than glad to have Tom with her, when they stepped into the office.

Behind a desk in the middle of the room sat a thin, black-robed man, grading essays.

He looked up at their entry and once again Ginny almost flinched back with fear. He was a tall, thin man, with bushy chin-length silvery-white hair, hollow cheeks and a goatee, and he had the coldest grey eyes she had ever seen. Tom, who had noticed her hesitation, placed one hand at her shoulder blade and looked at the professor.

“Sir, this is Virginia Otis, the new student.”

He turned his eyes back at her and smiled. “Ginny, may I introduce Professor Futhark, our Head of House.”

With that he withdrew his hand from her shoulder and Ginny felt almost a little sorry about it.

“Thank you, Mr. Riddle,” the professor nodded and gestured towards a pair of chairs in front of his working desk. “Have a seat.”

They did and once again, Ginny was glad about Tom’s presence. Professor Futhark turned his head towards her. His eyes held little sympathy.

“Welcome to Slytherin, Miss Otis,” he told her in his slightly cutting voice and forced his thin lips into a smile that did not reach his eyes. 

“I hope you will do well in your new house. Just give your best for Slytherin and Slytherin will do its best for you.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll try my best,” Ginny muttered.

She was once again endowed with a thin-lipped smile.

“That is fine. Headmaster Dippet already informed me about the special circumstances of your arrival. Do you have any questions?”

“No, not at the moment, thank you Professor,” she said. The sooner she would get out of here the better.

Even the professor’s face showed relief at that. He did not seem very eager to continue this conversation any longer either.

“Well, in case this should change, come to my office, or,” he gestured towards Tom, who sat in the chair beside hers, “ask Mr. Riddle instead. He is a Prefect, in case you do not know this already. There are also a Head Girl and Boy, of course, but they are Ravenclaw and” a sour expression crossed his face, “Gryffindor. You certainly would not want to discuss any problems with members of another house, would you, Miss Otis?”

His penetrating stare and stern tone made quite clear that this was no question, but an order.

“N-no sir, I don’t think so,” she stammered nervously.

“You don’t think so?” he repeated thoughtfully, “Well, that is a good start, I suppose. If you would excuse me now, I have work to do.”

Ginny immediately jumped to her feet and headed for the exit. To her surprise, Tom got up from his seat and walked towards the door, too. She thought he had said he wanted to speak to Professor Futhark, but maybe she had misunderstood this. When she reached for the handle, he suddenly leaned forward and opened the door for her.

“Just wait a few moments outside, will you? I have to discuss a project with Professor Futhark, but it won’t take long. It’s probably easier for you if we walk back downstairs together. This castle can be a little confusing in the beginning.”

Λ

X

A quarter of an hour later Tom, stepped out of Professor Futhark’s office. He was not any wiser than before. He had asked for the Runes professor’s advice with deciphering the strange scripting. He had not shown the original text to him, but had copied a few words onto a piece of parchment. His professor had been very interested, but not helpful in the slightest. He had not seen any sense in the mysterious text either.

Ginny was still there. She sat on one of the chairs in front of the office door and watched the small particles of dust floating in the trace of sunlight that fell through the huge lancet window at the headwall.

“Hi,” he addressed her pleasantly. “I hope the wait wasn’t too boring?”

“Oh no, not at all. I counted the nice chessboard mosaic on the floor, you know?” she teased.

“I’m sorry, but it took longer than I expected,” he told her, quite surprised by her comment.

“Oh,” she suddenly grinned and got up from her chair, “I’m just kidding. It’s very nice of you to show me the way in the first place.”

He didn’t know what to say in response to this and so they started to walk down the corridor in silence.

She did not look very happy, he noticed. Her posture had become all tense again like it had been in the office before. He wanted to make her feel better in some way.

“You needn’t be afraid of him, he isn’t half bad, if one gets used to him, you know?” he muttered.

She tried to smile at him, but it did not look very convincing. 

“It wasn’t a question, was it?”

His eyebrows rose interrogatively at her. “What?”

“Well, what he said about not to talk to members of other houses about any problems?”

He shook his head. “No. He doesn’t wish for internal problems of Slytherin to get outside.”

At her frown he continued. “He fears it might damage the house’s reputation to show any weakness, I guess. He wants us to appear unaffected and superior to others. In his opinion Slytherin house should be able to deal with its problems on its own.”

“Oh- that’s why,” she muttered mournfully “and what do you think?”

“I – I don’t know. It depends on the problem, I suppose?” he answered, confused by the question.

“If there is anything you don’t want to discuss with – me,” he started hesitatingly, “there is a girl in seventh year, Marion McNnair. She is Slytherin’s unofficial Head Girl or whatever you want to call it.”

She looked at him with a frown. “Am I correct in assuming that you don’t want me to ask you for help then?”

“No. No that’s not what I meant, not at all, Ginny. I just wanted to let you know that there is the possibility to get some –erw- female advice in our house, too.”

“Oh- thank you.”

He noticed the slight shade of pink that crept into her cheeks, and smiled.

“I would gladly help you should there be any problem.”

Her head snapped up at that. “Really?”

“Yes. It’s - it’s my responsibility as a Prefect after all,” he added hastily.

“Oh yes, of course.”

Did he just imagine it, or did she look disappointed? They had reached the library by now and stopped in front of the wooden entrance door. There was an awkward silence in the air all of a sudden.

“Well, that’s the library,” he exclaimed lamely. “You’ll find the way back to the common room from here, will you?”

Her eyes widened at that. “Yes. Yes, I think so.”

“You’ll probably head for the grounds, I suppose?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, I – no, the library sounds interesting. I guess I’ll have a look at it as well,” she smiled.

“But I’m just going to look some things up. I have no time to show you how to find a book now.”

“I think I can manage that on my own,” she remarked quite tensely.  

“Yes, of course,” he hurried to assure her. “I just meant that there are some useful ways to search for the book you want, magical ones, you know? But I can’t show you right now. Let’s do that some other time, OK?”

He felt almost a little sorry for her. She seemed so lost and insecure, but what was he supposed to do? He certainly could not use anyone’s company right now. He had to look some more things up. He had to find out more about the parchment he had discovered inside of Slytherin’s biography.

Suddenly she raised her head and straightened her back.

“Oh yes. Yes, that’s fine with me. I think I’ll have a look at the grounds now. Thanks for your help, Tom,” she said and turned on her heel. Without a further look at him she was gone.

He felt an odd feeling of regret well up inside of him. Now she was mad at him. That was not was he had intended at all.

Λ

X

Ginny Weasley shook with rage, while she hurried down the marble staircase and outside into the grounds. If Olive Hornby had appeared right now, she would have gladly wrung her neck.

She was kind of distracted by the way Tom had ridded himself of her presence. How dare he send her off like a stupid little girl? He had been so nice to her so far and now this. She was furious and embarrassed and kind of sad, but she would not show him. She might have come here because of him, but that did not mean she would make the same mistakes she had made with Harry. She would not set herself at his heels and wait longingly for him to notice her. She would make him notice her, without running after him like a puppy. She was sick of that.

Λ

X

“Mr. Weasley, please, calm down. We’ll do everything in our power to find out where your sister is,” Dumbledore told a desperate Ron, who paced the circular office like a nervous tiger. 

“Miss Granger,” he addressed the pale and worried looking girl in the chair in front of his desk, “if your Time-Turner is really missing as you say, there might be a connection to Miss Weasley’s disappearance, but we can’t be sure right now. Maybe she just ran off the common way – by broomstick. She didn’t say anything about time travelling in her letter, did she?”

Ron shook his head at that. “No,” he muttered, “but sir, she doesn’t even have a broomstick and – ”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Harry interrupted impatiently. “It makes me all mad to just sit here and await her return.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t,” Dumbledore told him with a sad smile. “Maybe a good night’s sleep will bring some clarity to the matter.”

He held up his hand to stop the trio’s protest.

“Dreams can be of great help to bring aspects that lurk in the subconscious out into the open; and they can be very powerful sensors as well.” 

Λ

X

With a sigh of frustration Tom Riddle clapped shut the book about ‘ _Forgotten Languages Of The Magical World’_. This was not any help either. He had once again brooded over the mysterious text, but had not made any progress in deciphering the words. He probably never would. Who on earth could possibly see any meaning in them? With a frustrated expression on his face he tried to pronounce the odd arrangement of letters just to convince himself how hopelessly the whole matter was – and suddenly – everything made perfect sense.

As soon as he muttered the first syllables, they became real words to his ears and his own voice extended Salazar Slytherin’s legacy to him.

_If you read these lines descendent of mine, you are able to speak with the serpent’s tongue - I must be long gone. This is my legacy for you._

_I wish I could have left something better, something more resistible to the teeth of time, but the days are dark and my friends have turned their backs on me._

_There is not much time. I will have to leave this castle within a few hours and this is the only way to let you and just - you - know what has to be said._

_I am no longer welcome in these walls I once built along with my cousin Goderic Gryffindor and the two most gifted witches of our time, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw. I failed my intentions, my plans. Fortunately I prepared a hidden chamber deep down beneath the deepest dungeon, beneath the lake even, to harbour a familiar, who will follow your every word and help you complete my work._

_Now all my hopes rest on you, my descendent. The runes told me you were to live some day in the far future. I do not know how many years, or even centuries, will have to pass until you will hold this parchment in your very hands._

_They say it is not possible to learn parseltongue as there is no way to write the words down. As you see, they are only half right. Parseltongue is indeed no learned language, but an inherited ability. If I try to read this text in silence, my own scripting does not make any sense to me. It is the voice that brings out the meaning. Therefore I enchanted the feather-quill I’m holding in my hand, to write down the words I mutter to myself. You see parseltongue can be expressed in letters as long as writer and reader speak the words aloud._

_Since you have read this far, this scripting has to make sense to you, which proves you to be a parselmouth, like me. You are the one I am writing this for, my heir. Now read on and listen to my words through your own voice._

_It is the year 1002. My name is Salazar Slytherin and I am a wizard -_

A loud clattering made him snap out of it. Some stupid first year had dropped all his writing materials and ink-bottle to the floor. Immediately the librarian got at his throat for his clumsiness. After a lot of lecturing and a couple of Cleansing Spells she shooed the unhappy boy and his friends out of the library. Tom frowned, when he realised it was late afternoon already. Warm golden sunlight floated into the vast room that was filled with lots of students now.

It was not safe enough to read these lines in here, he decided. There was too much danger that someone might hear him. As much as he wanted to find out what Salazar had to tell him, he had to wait until tonight.

A smile spread across his face. He had not had any idea that he was able to speak parseltongue. This was the final proof he had been looking for. Salazar Slytherin had made sure that none other than his true heir would be able to read the parchment and he could – he was a parselmouth like Slytherin. He was his heir.

Λ

X

Ginny Weasley could not sleep. Too many strange, exciting things had happened to her during the day. She had tossed and turned in her bed and listened to the other girls’ regular breathing for hours now it seemed, and it was long past midnight when she finally gave up.

Very carefully, so not the wake the others, she climbed out of  bed and approached the nearest window. She silently slipped through a gap in the curtains and stepped into the moonlit nook. The moon shone right into the yellow and green coloured glass of the window. Slowly she pulled back the old iron bar and opened the upper part of the window. The moon hung right above the lake, its silvery light glittered on the countless little waves that curled its surface. The warm, rich smell of summer was in the air and she heard the noise of crickets in the weeds by the lakeside. 

She felt an odd longing to go out there. To sit at the banks of the lake and look at the moon. If she had been in her own time and house, she probably would have given in to that wish and would have tried to silently slip out of the castle, but she was not, and she did not dare to sneak around the dungeons at night. Nonetheless, she could not sleep. She would not find any rest if she returned to her bed right now. It was probably best to go down to the common room for a time. As quietly as possible, she closed the window and slipped back through the curtains again.

After the moonlit nook the room was dark; she had to wait for a few moments until her eyes adjusted. When she was sure she would not run into anything by accident, she crossed the room towards the door and stepped into the corridor.

A lonely torch at the small wall of the corridor spread a dim light. It was just enough to let her recognize the spiral staircase that led down towards the common room. She had almost reached its foot, when she heard the noise for the first time.

It sounded strangely familiar, although she could not tell why. It was very silent hissing noise that reminded of a serpent.

There was light downstairs in the common room and the noise came from down there. Hesitatingly she stepped a little closer to find out what the strange noise was about. Her bare feet made no sound on the stone plates.    

Step by step she approached the stone archway that led into the common room. The hissing noise became louder and more clear now. It was a frightening sound that sent shivers down her spine and made all the little hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. Her bare forearms were covered in goose flesh. She should have probably returned to bed and let the hissing noise be, whatever it was, but curiosity got the better of her.

Very slowly and fearfully she leaned forward to peer around the corner and what she saw caught the breath in her throat.

**A/N:** The rune OTHILIA, this chapter is named after, is a rune of inheritance, which can either refer to the bounds of the clan, or the mysteries of inherited powers or talents. It represents legacy, family values and ethic origins.

The shape of the rune is similar to the little sign, I choose to separate the different passages, but it has no gap between the pointed roof and the X.

I hope, you enjoyed reading this.   

Smiles, Serpentina


	5. JERA

Ginny Weasley froze with fear. Across the common room in one of the high-backed armchairs by the empty fireplace leaned Tom Riddle – a piece of parchment in his hand.

The strange hissing noise definitely came from there.

Despite the late hour he was still dressed in his black school robes and for all it looked like he was reading some text from that piece of parchment in his hands. But what were those hissing noises supposed to be? What was going on?

Ginny started to feel very uncomfortable all of a sudden. She could not exactly tell why, but for some reason she supposed it to be better if he would not see her. Confusion was written all over her face when she stepped carefully back into the shadows. The little hairs at the back of her neck stood on end and an unexpected fear captured her. Her throat got all dry. Flashbacks of her first year crossed her mind. Furious hissing noises, fragments of a language unknown.

_‘Rip!  ~  Tear  apart!  ~  Kill!’_

Her head was spinning at the terrifying memories of – fear, betrayal, sorrow and regret – that broke free from somewhere deep inside her chest. Visions of herself, her eyes dull and unfocused - a strangled rooster dangling from Hagrid’s garden fence. Another one, with its throat slit, beneath. Blood running from its corpse, building dirty little pools in the muddy ground. Blood and feathers on her hands and night-gown.

Another scene – another night –a dark corridor. Her own handwriting spreading in scarlet-red, blood-dripping letters across the wall.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened - Enemies of the heir – beware._  

The Chamber. Tom. The hissing noise of a serpent.

With a panicked gasp she stumbled backwards only to trip over her own feet in her haste to get away. To her very shock the hissing stopped immediately. He had heard her. She had to get away. He must not find her.

Trembling with fear she crawled back deeper into the shadows, determined to avoid any noise. Maybe, if she remained completely quiet, maybe he would not follow her.

Although she had not recognised the hissing noise from afar she was now sure of what it had been. Parseltongue. The sounds had not been furious like she remembered them from the past, though. They had appeared more reluctant and unpractised to her – but she still could not understand.

**<  **

**>**      

Tom Riddle could have screamed with frustration. All evening he had waited for the opportunity to read more about Salazar’s legacy and when the last of his fellow students had finally left the common room, he had unrolled the ancient parchment once again, eager to find out more about its meaning. But he had not read any further than to the line he had stopped at that afternoon, before a noise from the stairs had made him look up in alarm.

He could not see anyone, but was almost sure someone was hiding in the shadows over there. He waited a few more seconds.

What if they had heard him? He had to be sure. And he had to look out. It was too risky. He must not read this parchment in the common room ever again.  

When he got up from his armchair, he heard someone hurrying up the stairs that led to the girl’s dorms.

Could it have been – her, he wondered. But no, he was probably wrong, it could have been anyone. He was just so very preoccupied with this strange girl that he thought of her in the first place. But if it had not been her – who else had been there and how much had they heard?

**<  **

**>**   

Her knees shaking, Ginny slid down to the floor of her dormitory and leaned her back against the old wood of the door. With unseeing eyes she stared into the darkness around her. The sound of her own, hurried breathing seemed loud to her. If only the other girls would not wake up right now. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the steps in the corridor outside slow down in front of her door.

It was him.

He had found her.

He knew it had been her.

Voldemort – No –Tom - He was right outside this door. What would he do to her now?

Just when she thought she could not bear the tension any longer, he backed away from the door and walked away. She could hear his steps ebbing away in the distance.

Utterly relieved she crawled back into her bed and drew the curtains shut. Ever so slowly the panic left her and after some time her breathing and heartbeat slowed down again.

She did not find much sleep that night, though. Pictures of her renewed, dark memories haunted her once again. She relived all the terrors of her first year and felt sick at the memories of what she had done. 

**<  **

**>**     

The merry atmosphere at the breakfast table made the whole frightening scene of the night before appear even more unreal.

The appetising smell of ham and eggs, tea and orange juice filled the air. Bright sunlight floated into the Great Hall through the huge windows’ coloured glass. The day promised to become warm again.

Tom looked so normal and harmless in bright daylight that she could hardly believe the fear she had felt only a few hours before.

Nonetheless she was hardly able to look at him. Their eyes had locked twice since she had started breakfast and each time she had been the first to look away. Even when not looking at him, she could sense his eyes on her, though. It made her feel awkward and nervous and – well - very uncomfortable in some way. She still wondered if he knew it had been her who had spied on him at the common room the night before.

Some giggling noises and a nudge in the ribs from Rabia caused her to turn her attention towards the other girl and she was glad for the distraction.

The oldest Slytherins had arrived and immediately she noticed a huge, silvery-blond boy in their midst. That boy could have been Draco. Even his eyes were of the same, silvery-grey colour.

Rabia, who had followed her gaze, leaned forward in her seat and whispered. “That’s Lucretius. Now you’ll have the rare opportunity to see Cathrina getting all nervous. Just look how she’s blushing.”

She was right. As soon as she caught sight of her cousin, the ghost of colour appeared on Cathrina’s pale Malfoy-cheeks. It even deepened when Lucretius took a seat at the opposite side of the table and smiled at her. “Hi Cat,” he greeted her with a warm smile. “Did you get Mum’s letter?”

“Oh-yes, I have, Lu,” she muttered, returning his smile.

Rabia rolled her eyes. “It’s only Cat and Lu for them,” she warned Ginny with a grin. “It has to be some stupid relic from their childhood and no one else ever calls them those names.”

Ginny almost felt sympathy for the fair-blond girl. It could not be easy to be watched by the nosy eyes of her house members when talking to the boy she was supposed to marry, and who was her cousin and crush on top of it all. Poor Cathrina.

Carefully she let her eyes glide across the table and almost flinched, when they suddenly met with a pair of bottle-green ones that watched her closely.   

Immediately she looked away. “What do we have first?” she asked hurriedly.

“Oh, on Wednesday mornings we always have double DSS,” Rabia frowned with a grave sigh, “but afterwards it’s Care Of Magical Creatures. You’ll like that one. That is, if you have it as elective subject -” 

“Yes, yes, I have,” Ginny assured her. “But what the heck is DSS? I don’t think that’s a subject of mine.”

To her very confusion Rabia snorted with laughter at that remark. “Oh don’t worry, I’m always doubting this myself.”

“It’s Domestic Science Spells,” Lilith filled her in with a shy smile. “Everybody hates it, but unfortunately it’s on the basic schedule and therefore unavoidable.”

“They are making us learn Household Spells?” Ginny asked in disbelief. “Even the boys?”

“No,” Rabia frowned, “the boys are luckier than all get out. They are practising Advanced Flying lessons in the meantime.”  

“Don’t we get any flying education then?” Ginny asked, taken aback.

“Oh yes, we do, but it’s separated from the boys and it’s boring beyond imagination.”

“Oh come on, Rabia,” Lilith injected, “it’s not that bad. At least they aren’t making us ride side-saddle anymore, like it was taught in my grandma’s days.”

”With the exception of Cathrina, you mean?” Rabia scoffed, but Lilith only shook her head. “She doesn’t like this one bit, either. It’s hardly her fault that her parents depend on it. They are quite old fashioned and hold up traditions.”

Ginny coughed, ‘Why doesn’t this surprise me in the slightest?” she wondered.

**<  **

**>**      

After DSS which was just as bad as it sounded, they headed out for the sunny grounds. Only she and Rabia had Care of Magical Creatures. Cathrina, Lilith and Olive had chosen Arithmancy instead. Although it was not any later than 9.30 a.m. it was quite hot already and Ginny followed Rabia’s example and rolled her sleeves up to the elbows.

In the distance she could spot some black-robed figures on broomsticks. She shielded her eyes against the sun to have a better look.

“Aren’t the boys finished with their flying lesson, yet?” 

“Yes, they are,” Rabia told her and followed her gaze. “That’s not our boys. That’s the fifth years.”

A jolt of electricity hit Ginny at that news. The fifth years – Tom’s class. She craned her neck even more, but could not recognise him from afar. She would have to get his schedule to be prepared for situations like this. Yes that she would do.

The sound of running feet on the dry ground caused Ginny to nervously glance over her shoulder, but it was just David and Argus, who caught up with their classmates.

“Hey, Rabia, Ginny wait,” David panted. “Did the lassies learn some thrilling new Household Spells?” he scoffed as soon as he reached them.

Rabia flashed a sarcastic smile at him. “If you don’t keep your big mouth shut, the lassies will hex you.”

“Aren’t you saving that for your dear friends, the Weasley-twins?” David mocked. He suddenly batted his eyelashes and called out in a high-pitched voice. “Oh Gregory, if you don’t stop this you’ll be so sorry, I –“

A hard nudge in the ribs silenced him. “Watch it Doofus,” Rabia warned, her eyes gleaming. “You’re treading on thin ice, you know?”

A light-hearted grin crossed David’s features. “Well speaking of ice – How about a nice relaxing afternoon at the lake with swimming and a large bowl of ice-cream?”

Rabia’s head snapped up in surprise at that. “Don’t you have Quidditch practice?”

“No siree, it’s cancelled.” 

“Well then –“       

In front of the little wooden house that would be Hagrid’s hut in Ginny’s time, a young woman with forget-me-not blue cotton robes awaited them. Her honey-coloured hair was tied into a messy bun and her light-hazel eyes looked melancholy, but friendly. 

“That’s Mrs. Norris,” Rabia exclaimed in a hushed voice. “She’s one of the kindest teaches we have. Everyone likes her.”

“Mrs. Norris?!” Ginny gasped.

“Yes,” her friend continued, “it’s very sad. She’s a widow, you know? Her husband was an Auror and was killed in a fight against Grindelwald. That’s why she’s looking so depressed sometimes, I guess.”

At a loss for words, Ginny stared at the beautiful young witch. Mrs. Norris could not be any older than in her mid-twenties. She greeted the class with a kind, but sad little smile and led them around the hut and past the neatly kept weed and pumpkin-patch, where a proud-looking Hagrid held up a wriggling Niffler.   

“Here’s the run’way, Mrs. Norris,” he grinned. “He tried teh escape inta th’ groun’, but-I got ‘im.”

It was hard to tell who was more muddy, the Niffler, or the bright grinning boy, who lay flat on his stomach amidst the pumpkin-patch. Ginny could hardly suppress a grin.

“That’s Rubeus Hagrid,” Rabia told her. “He’s a third year Gryffindor, but quite nice so far. He’s fond of all kinds of animals, especially large and dangerous ones, and he’s helping Mrs. Norris to care for the magical creatures. I think that’s very nice of him.”

“I’ve already met him,” Ginny told her with slight smile. “He showed me the way to Professor Dippet’s office yesterday.”

“Oh yes, he’s always in trouble,” Rabia admitted. “But, I like him nonetheless.”

After a brief conversation with Hagrid in which she advised him to clean up himself before heading for his next lesson, Mrs. Norris led them along a narrow, grass covered path into a small meadow by the edge of the forest. Wild flowers were sprinkled amongst the long yellowish summer grass in here and the nearby treetops were filled with merry chirping. On a wooden pale sat a beautiful, swan-sized, scarlet-red bird. Ginny recognised it at once.

His long golden tail feathers glittered in the bright morning sunlight. He only turned his head at the students’ gasps of amazement.

Mrs. Norris seemed to enjoy their excitement. “Today’s lesson is centred around the Phoenix,” she smiled. “Professor Dumbledore has been so kind to lend his pet-bird to us. His name is Fawkes and he’s around four hundred years old. Probably even older. It’s hard to tell the exact age of a Phoenix. Can anybody tell me, what is the reason for this? Yes, Miss McGonagall?” 

“The Phoenix can live to an immense age, as it can regenerate, bursting into flames when its body begins to fail and rising again from the ashes as a chick,” Minerva answered excitedly. Her cheeks had turned all pink at the sight of the Phoenix and the mention of Professor Dumbledore’s name. Ginny found this extremely interesting. Like Hermione, Minerva sounded as if she had swallowed the textbook. When she drew in a deep breath to continue, a slight smile crossed Mrs. Norris’ face.

“Yes, that’s correct, Miss McGonagall. Very good, indeed. Five points to Gryffindor for your extensive knowledge.”

She turned her head to look at the class again. “As Miss McGonagall has already said, the Phoenix does regenerate itself from its ashes from time to time. That’s why you should always have a box amongst your luggage, when travelling with a Phoenix. It might come in handy on a burning day. Now does anybody know where Phoenixes usually live?”

Once again Minerva’s hand shot into the air, but this time Mrs. Norris ignored her and picked out Rabia instead.

“It nests on mountain tops in countries like China, Egypt and India,” she answered.

“Well done, Miss Aydin.” 

“What else do we know of the Phoenix? Yes, Mr. Weasley?”

“It’s wearing Gryffindor colours,” Frederic grinned and Mrs. Norris rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Weasley, but I highly doubt that. Try again please.”

“Sorry, Ma’am, he muttered with a grin and continued on a more serious level. “It’s a gentle creature that never bites or kills and lives on herbs.”

“That’s right, Mr. Weasley. No house points will be taken from Gryffindor because of your former impudence. Is there anything more to be added?”

This time only Ginny raised her hand.

“You’re the new student, Miss Otis, I presume?” Mrs. Norris asked and Ginny nodded, feeling quite nervous now that everybody was looking at her.

“Well then, go ahead,” the teacher encouraged her. 

“A Phoenix is able to carry heavy weights,” she began, “its song is magical and able to increase the courage of the pure-hearted, while it weakens determination and strikes fear inside those whose hearts are impure. Besides this, it appreciates every true, devoted thought and action towards its owner, and honours it by accepting the person in which it senses such. The tears of a Phoenix have healing powers and  - erm, its tail-feathers can be used as a core for a magic wand.”       

“That’s brilliant, Miss Otis. Five points to Slytherin. Do you have any experience with a Phoenix?”

Blushing with embarrassment, Ginny shook her head. She had not meant to show off like this.

“Well then. I want each of you to step forward and try to communicate with Fawkes now. One by one. Don’t make any rushed movements. A Phoenix isn’t exactly shy, but it is very proud and can be easily annoyed, just like a Hippogriff. Not many wizards have been ever able to domesticate one. That’s why it gets a four X rating at the M. O. M. Classification according to _‘Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them’_. What does the Abbreviation M.O.M. stand for, by the way? Mr. Filch, do you have any idea?”

Poor Argus flushed bright red at being spoken to. “Mi-ministry Of Magic Classification, Ma’am,” he stammered nervously.

“Very good, Mr. Filch. Five more points to Slytherin, for this,” Mrs. Norris smiled and faced the rest of the class again to continue her lecture.

“If I say communicate, I’m speaking of telepathy. Don’t ever call for a Phoenix the way you would  talk to a dog. It would offend him. Just bow your arm and place your fingertips at your shoulder. Then talk to the bird in your thoughts. If you’re lucky, you might get an answer, but if he refuses to come to you it doesn’t mean that he mistrusts you. I don’t really expect Fawkes to fly to any of you. I just want to give you an idea of how to treat a Phoenix. It’s really rare that he follows such an invitation at all and as such you should always think of it – as an invitation, but never as an order.”    

“Mr. Dumbledore, I think we best start with you as the bird is used to you in some way.”

Everyone held their breath when David stepped forward. He bowed right arm in the way Mrs. Norris had advised them and tipped lightly against his left shoulder. His eyes locked with those of Fawkes.

At first nothing happened. Then the Phoenix shifted his position on the fence and spread his magnificent wings.

A triumphant smile crossed David’s face, but the very next second the bird refolded his wings again and turned his back to the now crushed looking boy.   

While David had at least caused some kind of reaction in Fawkes, Frederick, Gregory and Argus tried so without any success.

Then it was Minerva’s turn.

Nervously she stepped in front of the scarlet feathered bird. Fawkes tilted his beautiful head aside and eyed her carefully for a few seconds. Then all of a sudden he spread his wings and rose into the air. Slowly and gracefully he took the offered seat. Minerva’s knees almost buckled under the heavy weight, but determinedly she stood her ground. With trembling fingertips she caressed the bird’s fluffy scarlet-red feathers and Fawkes did not make any move to leave his place on her arm.

Mrs. Norris was equally stunned as the class. “That’s a real surprise, Miss McGonagall. I hadn’t expected this. Take him back to the fence and thank him. You may speak aloud to him for this now.”

Her steps unsteady under the Phoenix’s weight, Minerva crossed the short distance and Fawkes hopped off of her shoulder and back upon the fence again.

“Well, to me it’s no surprise at all! He probably knows you from my uncle’s office. You’re certainly up there often enough, aren’t you Minnie?” David mocked and Minerva’s cheeks flushed bright red at the teasing.

Neither Rabia, nor Sean Black had any luck with the Phoenix, he simply did not react at all. But when the row was on Ginny, Fawkes raised his beautiful head and looked at her as if he was unsure of what to think of her. Ginny felt her heartbeat quicken. Did the bird recognise her? How was this possible? She would meet him in – What? – Around fifty years in the future. He certainly could not know of that, could he?         

But maybe time had a different meaning to a creature like a Phoenix.

Suddenly Fawkes tilted back his head and a row of the most beautiful sounds imaginable escaped from his throat, before he disappeared in a puff of feathers.

For a few seconds no one spoke a word. The soft bumbling of bees between the grass and the birds’ chirping in the treetops were the only noises in the quiet meadow at the edge of the forest. Nine pairs of eyes stared into the spot where Fawkes had just disappeared into thin air. Just a few fluffy red feathers that slowly swooped to the ground reminded of his presence. Finally Mrs. Norris found her voice again, but it was shaky and unsteady, when she spoke.

“That was Phoenix’ song,” she explained with a stunned expression on her face. “I’ve never heard it before, myself. This has been a truly unexpected reaction you caused in the bird, Miss Otis.”

At this some whispering started among the students and Ginny could sense their curious gazes.

“Well, as for the disappearance,” Mrs. Norris continued, “this is one more ability the Phoenix has. Like the Dircawl, it can vanish at will and reappear elsewhere. I’m sure Fawkes has returned to Professor Dumbledore’s office now.”

“Maybe Minerva could check on that,” David mumbled with a trace of sarcasm. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Minerva, who had felt a brief stab of jealousy at Fawkes’ stunning reaction to the new Slytherin girl, blushed at the comment. With an insecure little smile she looked at Ginny. She could not be that bad, if even Dumbledore’s familiar trusted her enough to sing for her, could she?

**<  **

**>**    

In the afternoon Ginny did not join the others at swimming and sunbathing at the lake, but headed for the library instead. Rabia, who had half-heartedly suggested to accompany her, had been utterly relived when Ginny had refused her offer.

On a bright sunny day like this the vast room was pleasantly cool and very quiet. The atmosphere was similar to that of an old, dimly-lit church and the smell of dust and old books filled the air.

Just a lonely bag lay opened on one of the tables. A couple of books, parchment and quills were spread around it. Ginny wondered briefly, who else might be stupid enough to spend a hot summer’s afternoon in here and was just about to turn the other direction and look for the books she needed, when her gaze fell onto a small, utterly familiar black book, she had not expected to see ever again.

**A/N:** Most of the background information about the Phoenix is taken from _‘Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them’_ a comic relief book referring to the Harry Potter series, or from the second book ‘ _The Chamber Of Secrets_ ’. Just the ideas about the box for a burning day and the way to treat a Phoenix are mine.

**JERA** , this chapter’s title, is a rune, which literally means _‘year’_.  It expresses the interaction of two opposites like summer and winter and stands for long term influences on each other, which can not be rushed or forced. It tells of harmony between inner changes and the changes of the world around and is supposed to represent the slowly developing relationships and the – yet unspoken – emotions between several characters in this chapter that may have a beneficial outcome in the end. If overlapping, the little signs I choose to separate the sections, build the shape of JERA.

Still hoping you’ll let me know what you think of this story.  ;) Hint. Hint. Pretty, pretty please…. 

Smiles, Serpentina


	6. ANSUZ

It was the diary.

For a few seconds Ginny hesitated. Carefully she turned her head in both directions to check that nobody was around. Dust danced in the traces of sunlight that floated into the room through the wide open windows at the west side of the castle.

There was no noise except for the laughter of the other students down in the grounds drifting in from outside. She seemed to be all alone in the vast room. Even the librarian was busy sorting some new books into their places in another section and was not observing her at the moment.

And Tom – He was obviously somewhere in the library, but he was not close yet and maybe, if she hurried, maybe she could pocket the little black book.

The diary.

She had never expected to see it again. But it existed at this time, of course. It looked brand new now. She even wondered if it had yet been enchanted to hold Tom’s memories. But then it could not on the other hand. The Chamber of Secrets had not been opened yet and Tom would not let an important book lay around like this, would he?

Hesitatingly, Ginny took a few steps into the direction of the little object, but stopped once again to carefully glance above her shoulder. There still was not anyone around. It seemed to be the perfect chance to get her hands on the book, if it had not been for the annoying little voice in the back of her mind telling her that it was just _wrong_ to look into another person’s diary, even if it belonged to a boy who would one day be the most evil Dark Wizard ever.

But then, it had been – or would be – _her_ diary at some point in the future after all, wouldn’t it?

While she still stood in the library arguing with herself whether or not she should take the chance, the creaking of steps on the old wooden floor told her that someone was nearing from the restricted section and she did not have any doubts who it might be.

Flinching with a stab of conscience, her heart pounding with fear, Ginny crossed the short distance to hide within the rows of shelves at her back. Cautiously not to cause any noise, she drew a small book out of the row and peered carefully through the gap.

She had been right.

It was Tom.

He carried a couple of dusty, very old looking books he had obviously just picked up in the restricted section.

Ginny felt her throat getting dry. The little hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. There was no doubt, he was planning something and if she was not much mistaken, she new _exactly_ what he was up to.

He was searching for the entrance to the Chamber of Secterts. Well, she could have easily told him where to seek, she thought bitterly. Maybe if she destroyed the entrance to the Chamber, maybe then she could keep things from happening. But no, it would not be enough to prevent a Dark Wizard from rising. She had to change his _attitude_ towards muggleborns and muggles if she wanted him to give up on his plans.

This could not be easy at all since she, a pureblood herself, could hardly tell him anything about the way muggles acted. After living at a muggle orphanage for the first eleven years of his life, Tom probably new more about them than she ever would.        

If she only knew what to do. Maybe it was best to just observe him first. To follow him silently as a shadow while he prepared for setting his plans into action.

All of a sudden one of the books, next to the gap she peered through, lost its safe stand. With a slight thud it nudged against the other one. Nervously Ginny bit her lip. What if he had heard this?

Her question was answered the very next second.

**_F_ **

Tom looked up from the book he had just opened with a frown. He had clearly heard something. Suspiciously, he looked around until his eyes fell on a single bag at one of the tables two rows away from his that had not been there before. So he was not alone as he had supposed. Someone else must have entered the library while he had been in the restricted section and were probably looking for some books themselves right now. He had no idea who it might be, but whoever it was, they crossed his plans quite badly. He needed to be _alone_ for what he planned. He had been so _sure_ the library would be deserted on a bright summer’s day like this. Most obviously he had been mistaken by this, but he did not appreciate the unexpected company one bit.

Cursing under his breath he stuffed his school books and writing materials into his bag, pressed the books from the restricted section to his chest and hurried out of the library to seek some private space. 

**_F_ **

Only when the heavy wooden door fell shut behind him, did Ginny dare to breathe again. He had not seen her. After the first seconds of relief, she noticed there was something else Tom had missed at his rush to exit.

Forgotten under the table lay the diary.

It must have dropped to the floor, when he had hastily shoved his things into his bag, she supposed.

Well, hesitations and doubts as they might be, _this_ was the perfect chance to get a grip on that little black book and she would have been a fool to let it pass.        

**_F_ **

Down at the Slytherin common room, Tom was cursing under his breath once again. He could not find his diary. He did not even know why he had brought that stupid thing to Hogwarts with him. He was sure he had still had it this afternoon, but he could ransack his bag as much as he pleased, he still could not find it.

“What are you doing?” a female voice asked behind him.

His head snapped up in surprise.

It was her!

To his anger he noticed that his heartbeat quickened and his cheeks flushed quite a bit. Of all times of the day she had to just find him rummaging through his things like some sap. He felt rather stupid and began to hurriedly stuff his belongings into his bag and yet, he was glad that she was speaking to him again. She had been pretty mad at him the day before when he had sent her off to get some research at the library done, after all. If he only had more time to deal with her. But he was determined to find out more about his ancestor and his legacy. He could not take himself the time to _date a girl_ right now, as much as he might wish to.

Nonetheless he was kind of thrilled when she suddenly stood beside him, smiling. A little awkwardly he scratched his ear.

“You didn’t happen to see a small black book, have you?” he asked, to hide his confusion.

At first she looked stunned, then a sly little smile crossed her face all of a sudden. _‘She probably thinks I’m a complete sap now,’_ he thought irritably. He could not help but frown at the prospect.

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t,” she said, then added with a nod into the direction of his now very untidily-stuffed bag, “is it that, you’re searching for?”

He nodded, feeling quite foolish once again. “Yes,” he shrugged, “but it isn’t _that_ important. No, actually it isn’t important at all! It should be already time to head for dinner. Come, let’s go to the Great Hall.”

**_F_ **

Thoughtfully, Albus Dumbledore released his pet bird onto its perch to answer the knock at his office door. 

“Ah, Minerva,” he smiled, “it’s you. How nice. Come in, take a seat. Do you care for a cup of tea?”

He suddenly noticed her tense posture and looked at her with concern. “Is everything all right?”

Professor McGonagall took in a deep breath. “Well I’m... not quite sure, Albus,” she started, then her thin lips formed into a smile. “But you’re right, a cup of tea is a very good idea, I suppose.”

“Well then,” he reassured her with another kind smile and led her towards his sitting room, where he summoned an oriental tea set with a wave of his hand. He took one of the scarlet-and-gold-decorated glasses and poured some steaming hot water over the twig of fresh mint in it. 

“What’s the matter, my dear friend?” he asked softly as he handed the glass to her. 

Professor McGonagall’s lips were once again pressed into a thin line.

“Thank you,” she muttered and shifted quite uneasily in her seat. “I don’t know, Albus,” she started hesitatingly, “I’m most certainly making a fool out of myself, but – you see, there are these strange dreams I’m having lately and I’m…Well, see…I’m not sure…”

_“Dreams?”_ Dumbledore asked with surprise. “I thought you didn’t rely on things like Divination and dreams, Minerva?”

“Yes, you’re right,” she assured him, “but now - I’ve been dreaming about the Weasley-girl and… And I’m quite sure she’s at Hogwarts, Albus. In the past. I met her there, in my fourth year. But she isn’t in Gryffindor then. She’s in Slytherin, Albus! Can you imagine that?”

She replaced her glass with slight clattering onto the tray and shot a troubled glance at the older wizard.

Dumbledore watched her thoughtfully for some seconds and let her words sink in to him, before he responded. “Yes,” he nodded carefully, “yes, Fawkes already said so.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyebrows rose in astonishment at this. “ _Fawkes,_ Albus?” she asked, slightly nervous.

“Yes, Fawkes, my dear Minerva,” Dumbledore smiled kindly, “he often talks to me telepathically, didn’t you know that?”

“Oh, erw, indeed?” She asked, trying to hide her confusion and spooning some more sugar into her tea. “Does he? Ewm, what does he say?”

“Oh, this and that,” Dumbledore remarked casually, “but he also mentioned Miss Weasley lately. And I’m quite sure your _dreams_ are based on memories.”

Professor McGonagall looked at the white-haired wizard with, for her age, an uncharacteristically insecure expression on her face. But then, sixty-seven wasn’t _that_ old for a witch on the other hand.  

**_F_ **

A soft breeze moved the long yellowish summer grass. The dry rushes rustled against each other and mixed with the quiet, continuous sounds of crickets and frogs. The moon was not up yet, but the darkening sky that arched above the old castle was already sprinkled with the first stars.

After the day’s heat it was refreshing to sit by the quiet lake shore and watch the small waves nudging softly against its banks. It was the perfect atmosphere to rest one’s thoughts and put one’s mind at ease with a stressful day’s happenings. But the dark-haired boy who was sitting amid the weeds had no time for such diversions. He was determined to finally finish reading the mysterious parchment with his ancestors’ legacy. In this deserted place and at this late hour, nobody would disturb him, so he supposed.

He fixed the light of his wand onto the text and started to pronounce the strange-looking syllables once again.   

_If you read these lines descendent of mine, you are able to speak with the serpent’s tongue …_

No, he had already read this twice, he need not reread this part. He skipped the next couple of lines and started reading again –  _…are the one I am writing this for, my heir. Now read on and listen to my words through your own voice._

_It is the year 1002. My name is Salazar Slytherin and I am a wizard -_

Yes, that was the right place! Here was where he had been interrupted twice. Burning with anticipation he leaned forward to continue – When _we founded this school, all those young maidens and youths with magical abilities were accepted, even the muggleborns. My friends depend on this. But I do not welcome the offspring of non-magical folk in this place. They should stay were they belong. With their equals. The muggles._

_They do not know what it means to be a wizard. They do not understand the ways we think and act. They are unable to empathise our world, but they will tell their non-magical relatives of us. And those will certainly misunderstand our actions and will face us with suspiciousness and dislike. The less muggles know about us, the better._

_Not only are muggles inferior to our kind, they are a threat, even. We need to be aware of them. The other Founders will not listen if I try to convince them of this, but I have seen far into the future and I know, there will be tragedies visited upon the Wizarding world._

_Right now, the muggles who know of our existence accept and sometimes even worship us, but very soon, they will start to mistrust us and not long afterwards they will begin to hunt us down. In about 500 years there will be killing and tortures beyond our imagination. Not even the muggles themselves will be safe from the uproar of fury they will create. Some of us will be able to save ourselves with the help of magic, but if robbed of his wand, a wizard is just as helpless as a muggle._

_Therefore we need to practice what is called Dark Magic by those who do not understand.  A Dark wizard has no need for a wand to defend himself. It might still be useful to him, but it is not_   _necessary._ _Dark Magic is the more powerful magic._ _There is no doubt about this. I have practised it and I am prepared. I do not know in what time you will be born; if you are to face the dangers I have foreseen, or if you will live even farther in the future; but I know you will exist some day. So I have deposited my familiar, deep beneath these floors, to follow your command and rid this castle of all those who are unworthy to live among us._

_My heir; to plumb the secrets of my dormant legacy, you must heed carefully the following words:  When I started, there was no path – I forged it myself, at great cost and to my own undoing._

_As the manifestation of our shared destiny, it is not my place to lead your way, or even guide you. You must use your birthrights, wit, guile and deviousness, to uncover the way._

_This castle is alive with the essence of the Founders Four, and nothing in it happens at random. Even the staircases do not move without purpose. If you tread on the correct one, at an auspicious moment, it will bear you to the destination I have intended for you…if you know the right words to speak._

_And now, my heir, it is really very plain, for one of my line – simply…_

_Watch the windows.  But do not look outside._

_The unflagging endeavours of the Founders, turned Hogwarts into the heart of the wizarding world in this country. And as there are four chambers to this, there are four houses within this castle that need to work alongside each other. Today the other Founders might split the interplay of forces and spirits, as they ban me from this place and conquer my part of the entity this castle holds, but they do not know what is buried deep down within its soul, waiting for you to set it free. And to this Secret Chamber of mine it is **‘Helga’** , who holds the key. _

_Salazar Slyth-_

A sudden noise to his left made Tom look up from the parchment. There was some rustling in the weeds nearby. Something was moving within the bushes of stirring nettles, but it did not sound like footsteps to him. He narrowed his eyes into small slits and stared intensely into the location of the noise, but nothing happened. Nothing at all.

He was just about to return his gaze to the parchment, when he suddenly heard the tiny whispering voice amid the weeds. _”S_ - _s-there you s-s-see. It’s-s no firefly. I told you it was-s one of s-s-thos-se.”_

And another likewise whispering voice that answered: _“Don’t talk nons-s-sens-se. As-s if it could be one of s-s-them if everyone knows-s-s s-they can’t s-s-speak. All s-s-they do is-s-s making s-s-strange s-s-sounds-s, nobody will ever unders-s-tand.”_

_“But s-s-that is-s a human. It’s-s a male, is-s-n’t it? A young one?”_ the first voice asked in confusion.

_“Yes-s, yes-s it is-s,”_ the other one agreed. _“but it cannot have been s-s-this one, which s-spoke earlier. S-s-there mus-s-t be s-s-someone els-s-e around. Come on, let’s-s s-search for them.”_

With that, the small brown head of a snake appeared from out of the weeds. It swayed slowly from side to side as it looked at its fellow beside him. 

With one leap Tom jumped to his feet. _“What on the name of-”_ he gasped, staring at the equally shocked serpent. He did not even realise that he was still speaking parseltongue.

The serpent, on the contrary, did and so its split tongue fluttered excitedly at its next words. _“Ha-“_ it gasped and jumped backwards into the bush of stirring nettles. _“It’-s-s speaks-s.”_

_“Come on,”_ the other snake whispered nervously, _“we’d better hurry. S-s-this-s is-s creepy.”_ With that the two serpents hurriedly fled into the darkness.

**_F_ **

The next afternoon, Ginny sat at the library once again. She was looking up some advanced Transfiguration spells in an old book, when suddenly a shadow fell across the pages.

“Would you mind allowing me to have a brief look into that book as well?” a familiar voice asked behind her.

When Ginny turned her head in surprise she faced a quite awkward-looking Minerva McGonagall. The dark-haired girl seemed to have debated with herself for quite a while before she had decided to ask, and she was most obviously extremely uncomfortable with the whole situation. After the first shock, Ginny managed to smile at the younger version of her Head of House.  

“Oh hi,” she muttered hesitantly. “Of course you can look something up.” She gestured towards the free chair next to hers. “Won’t you sit down?”  

Minerva’s eyes widened in surprise at her friendliness. Hesitatingly she took the offered seat and drew the large book towards herself. When her eyes fell on the page she looked up at Ginny, curiosity written all over her face.

“What are you looking up advanced Transfiguration spells for?!” she blurted out, but bit her lip the very next moment. “Excuse me, it’s certainly none of my business,” she muttered. 

Ginny wavered. Even if Minerva supposed her to be a Slytherin and did not like her very much, Ginny knew that the other girl was trustworthy. She would be Dumbledore’s right hand and head of her own house in her time after all. And the Transfiguration Professor at that. Maybe she could be of help to her. She just must not tell her the whole story. And it was certainly worth a try.

Ginny noticed with some amusement that she was starting to think and act rather Slytherin.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” she told her with a smile. “I’m… well, one could say I’m working on a project,” she added with a careful side glance at Minerva. “You’re pretty good at Transfiguration, aren’t you?”

“It’s my favourite subject,” the other girl declared proudly.

“Oh, it’s mine, too,” Ginny told her earnestly, but blushed the very next second. Even if Minerva was her age now, Ginny felt like showing off by telling a later professor that her subject was her favourite one. Maybe she should just stop thinking of her as a teacher, she thought. It might certainly help. At the moment the black-haired girl nervously chewed her lower lip, and did not look comfortably at all.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out all of a sudden, and Ginny flinched with surprise.

“About my behaviour in Potions the other day,” Minerva continued. ”It was stupid of me to be this mean to you. I guess I … um … need to apologise.”

This time Ginny did not have any difficulties smiling at her. “It’s quite all right. We just had a bad start, I suppose. Let’s just try again, OK?” she suggested kindly.

Minerva’s face lit up at that. “Oh, um, yes, surely!”

“Well, Minerva,” Ginny started, carefully weighing her every word. “If you’re good with Transfiguration, maybe you could advise me how to deal with my project?” 

“Yes, certainly, I’d gladly try,” the other girl assured her eagerly.

Ginny smiled at her once again. “What would you do to enchant an object to alert you and make contact with you, whenever someone else uses it?”

“Mhm, which kind of object?” Minerva asked with a frown.    

Ginny looked at her, tilting her head aside. “Well, _a diary_ , for instance,” she suggested casually.

**A/N:** **ANSUZ** this chapter’s title is a rune of opening in every way. It might either represent the opening of lines of communication, advice from a wiser person and the growth of interpersonal communication in a relationship, or self change, wisdom, cunning speech and occult power. It can also be used to bring success and leadership, or generally help with magic and it tells of the need to focus on the past to direct the future.  Its shape resembles the letter **_F_** , only that the horizontal lines are pointing slightly downwards.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for leaving Kudos! It’s certainly encouraging. I don’t think I could write without any kind of feedback. Some comments to let me know – what _exactly_ you think of this – would still thrill me, btw. ;)

Smiles, Serpentina


	7. URUZ

In the evening Ginny was working on an Astronomy map with Rabia and her new friend told her about the striking advantages of flying carpets in comparison to broomsticks.

“You should see my uncle’s carpets, Ginny. He has a loom, one of the kinds where they still make the carpets by hand, you know? Oh, I’m looking so much forward to our next visit there! Father said we’re probably going to see his family during the holidays and I can hardly wait to ride my beloved carpet again. She’s an Arabian Silk-Reel 16 and she clearly has some temper! She looks and feels smooth and silky and literally floats on the air, but she’s also very fast. Even my cousin’s Racing-Weaver’s-Shuttle 4 can hardly compete Kahira, that’s her name, and she’d show the broom-lovers here at Hogwarts how to – really – fly. It’s too bad that I’m not allowed to have her over here. I’d _love_ to show those insufferable Weasley twins how fast an oriental carpet can be! They wouldn’t get hold of a single Bludger and we would beat Gryffindor in no time.” She sighed dreamily.

“But that damn embargo makes it impossible. It’s so sad that she has to wait rolled up on my uncle’s shelf all year. But my cousin Orkun promised to take her out on a magical lasso, when he rides his own carpet Firat. Kahira’s so wild, if she doesn’t get the opportunity to stretch her fringes. She keeps rattling on her shelf and even kicks the other carpets off the board. Uncle Ahmet says he can’t allow that and he’ll have to lock her in the basement if she doesn’t stop misbehaving.”

“Oh,” Ginny laughed, “that poor thing. Nice of your cousin to take her out. But what do you mean by: ‘The Weasley twins wouldn’t get a single Bludger, if you had Kahira here?’”

A sly little smile twitched around Rabia’s lips, but try as hard as she pleased, she could not stop the amused twitching turning into a wide smile.

“Oh you mustn’t tell anyone, Ginny, will you? We want it to be a surprise, but just imagine: I’m on the Quidditch team! David told me this afternoon that the captain finally accepted my application. I’m so happy! I wanted to get on the House Team ever since I saw the first game. And now, finally, I’ve been selected. From October on I’ll play the position of Beater. I’m so, so – excited about that!”

“Honestly?!” Ginny asked surprised. “Hey Rabia, that’s splendid! Who else is on the team?” 

Rabia started to eagerly fill her in and Ginny found out that Cathrina’s beloved cousin, Lucretius Malfoy was Slytherin’s Keeper and team captain, whereas David Dumbledore was playing Seeker. Rabia and a fifth year were Beaters, just like the Weasley twins; Rabia’s favourite topic of discussion besides flying were playing for Gryffindor.

In the middle of their discussion, Ginny noticed that Tom conjured up the magical archway and left the common room for the hall outside.

She briefly wondered what he might be up to as it was after curfew already, but came to the conclusion that, as a Prefect, he probably had some duties like patrolling the corridors and such.

Ginny was so caught up in her thoughts that she did not follow Rabia’s explanations well enough to tell who the Chasers were, but it was a loss she did not mind too much.

Leaning back in her seat she watched Rabia, who started to add calculations about the distances between the moon and important locations of the magical world to her map, but Ginny felt too lazy to work ahead. The map was not due before the day after tomorrow and she could not bring herself to finish her task now. She secretly admired Rabia’s determination, but then, she probably wanted to get through with her homework to have the following evening free for flying practice, Ginny assumed.

Once again she allowed her thoughts to wander off towards Tom, who had not yet returned. A sly little smile formed on her lips. She would get to know his thoughts and secrets and quite soon at that, if everything worked out as she had planned it. Still smiling, Ginny remembered her conversation with Minerva, who had cast her a suspicious look at her request.

“A diary?” she had asked with a trace of doubt in her voice.

“Well kind of,” Ginny had shrugged nonchalantly. “I attended a wizarding school in America along with my em-my – cousin – and now I would like to stay in touch with him,” she had muttered in a rush.

Minerva had arched an eyebrow at her. “Your _cousin_ huh? Sure, if you say so.”

Ginny sighed at the memory, knowing that the other girl had most obviously not bought a word of her excuses, but she did not really care. As long as Minerva helped her to enchant the diary and did not ask uncomfortable questions, she might believe whatever she pleased.

**_ח_ **

About an hour later, when Rabia and most of the other students had retired for the night, Ginny still sat in the common room, _‘Hogwarts: A History’_ in her lap.

Except for the group of seventh years by the fireplace who were engaged in a discussion of their own, the common room was empty.

Ginny was quite tired, but Tom had not returned yet and she was almost positive that whatever he was doing out there, had nothing to do with his duties as a Prefect; and she was too curious to just go to bed. After all, she had come here because of him and this was the perfect time to find out more about his dark plans.

Slowly, so not to draw more attention to herself than necessary, she rose from her seat and walked over to the exit-wall. In an unnoticed moment she quickly conjured up the archway like Tom had shown her and slipped out of the room. 

It was dark in the corridor. Only a minimum of torches was lit at this late hour and her steps sounded hollow in the long, empty passage. Nervously, Ginny gripped her robe tighter around herself and turned towards the flight of stairs that led out of the dungeons. She really hoped Tom would sneak around somewhere up there as she had not the daring to follow him deeper into the dungeons at night time.

For all she supposed he was searching for the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and she rather did not want to be caught spying on him. It would be much easier to come up with an excuse if she was discovered somewhere other than in the dungeons.

She was worrying that her own shadow, dancing across the walls, oddly elongated in the shifting and guttering light of the torches, might give her away. She was not at all comfortable in this place and really could not wait to get out. 

But when she approached a fork in the way, she was almost swept off her feet by colliding with a tall, dark-haired figure, who had rounded the corner from the right.

Her first thought was that it was Tom she had bumped into and she almost cringed with shock, but at a closer look, she noticed the Gryffindor crest on the front of the boy’s robes. Besides that she would have recognised the strong accent out of a hundred. “Oops – din’t see ye’! ‘Re you al’right?” 

Utterly relieved not to have nearly knocked over Voldemort – no, Tom – she lifted her gaze to the boy’s face.

“Hagrid!” she gasped, “Um – yes, I’m OK. Sorry, I didn’t see you either.”

A wide grin slipped over Hagrid’s smooth, boyish face. “Oh, Ginny,” he stated and there was an obvious note of relief in his voice.

“But it’s Rubeus, he added. “Hagrid’s just my surname.”

“Ahh, of course, Rubeus,” Ginny smiled, “what are you doing down here?”

At that a nervous expression crossed his face. “Jus’ met som’one,” he muttered after a second and threw a nervous glance over his shoulder.

“Who?” Ginny asked, startled, but he just shrugged.

“Can’ tell ye’.”

Before she got the chance to press the matter, he cast her an amused look and winked an eye at her. “An’ ye’? Sneakin’ out for a date, ya? Som’one I know?”

Immediately an idea of a secret rendezvous with Tom crossed Ginny’s mind and much to her anger, she felt her cheeks redden.

“For someone who just refused to give me an answer, you’re damn curious,” she teased to distract from her embarrassment.

“But I did, too,” Hagrid complained with a grin. “I said I couldn’ tell ye’. That’s ‘n answer, isn’t it?”

“Very precise,” Ginny snorted, but he immediately shushed her to keep her voice low. “Shht –” he hissed, “I mustn’ be down here –”

“Too true,” Ginny could not avoid pointing out with a smirk, but Hagrid just grinned at her.

 “ – an’ neither should you, even if ye’r older than me,” he added with a clear note of satisfaction, and the grin on Ginny’s face subsided.

“Hey,” she complained, “this here’s the dungeons and it’s – my – common room that’s down here, not yours.”

“Yeah, but it’s after curfew for ye’ as well,” he countered in a low voice and threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. “We’d bett’r leave now.”

With that they both started to move into the direction of the stairs, but Ginny could not prevent herself from picking on him a little more. “So much in a hurry?” she asked innocently, “So much afraid to get caught? Maybe it’s you who came from a date, then?” she teased.       

At that comment Hagrid’s cheeks flashed bright red.

“Na – ” he objected, “I haven’t been, I’ve just – ” he trailed off, looking around uncomfortably, then shrugged and continued in his tracks. “Well, kind of,” he finally muttered. “But not like ye’ think ..”

They continued their friendly argument on their way upstairs, keeping their voices as low as possible, but when they had barely reached the head of the staircase, Hagrid suddenly grabbed her arm to hold her back.

“Wait! There’s som’one talkin’!” And then she heard it herself. 

Someone was whispering in the Entrance Hall.

**_ח_ **

He was all alone in the Entrance Hall, Tom realised after a quick glance over his shoulder. Carefully he set his foot onto the lowest step of the wide marble staircase.

“Show me the way,” he whispered and his voice echoed softly in the vast, empty room.

Nothing happened. Nothing at all. Hesitantly, he drew his second foot onto the same step.

“Show me the way – please –” he hissed, quoting the _‘magic’_ word, but the stairway remained motionless in its place.

It was exasperating. For more than an hour he had sneaked around the castle, searching for the right staircase, but so far, nothing had happened.

Suddenly there was a noise from the dungeon stairs behind him. Alerted, he whirled around, hoping that no one had overheard him talking to a staircase that didn’t even respond. Much to his dismay, his worry was proven right, though.

Rubeus Hagrid, the Gryffindor third year who helped Mrs. Norris, shuffled out of the shadows by the stairs, a bright grin on his face.

“Ahh – it ye’, I thought it might be one o’ the teachers?”

And as if that was not bad enough already – she – was with him. Immediately Tom felt his cheeks redden. How dead damn stupid of him to be caught talking to a _staircase_. Shit! Only yesterday he had made a fool out of himself by rummaging through his things like some sap. And now –

Curiously the Gryffindor stepped closer. “What are ye’ doin’ there?” He suddenly flashed him a bright grin. “Hey, don’ worry, I’m allus talkin’ teh m’self as well!”

To make it all worse, Tom heard Ginny stifle a giggle at that. To distract from his own embarrassment, he took his anger out on poor Hagrid.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped. “It’s after curfew and you should be up in your common room!”

“Ye’ aren’t at yours either,” the younger boy complained quite stubbornly, but Tom just shook his head.

“There’s a difference,” he told him sternly. “I am a Prefect. And you should really go to bed now, Hagrid. What are you waiting for? Hurry up!”

“Yeah, OK,” Hagrid sighed and started to climb up the stairs. After a couple of steps he turned his head, though. “See you Ginny,” he called softly and she raised her hand to wave at him. Then Hagrid disappeared around the corner.          

Hesitantly, Tom turned towards Ginny, who watched him from the foot of the stairs.

“You’re not allowed to leave the common room after curfew,” he told her softly. “But I guess you did not know that, since you’re new. Not that I’d tell anyone, but you better head back for the Slytherin quarters now, before one of the teachers catches you wandering around this late.”

When she did not react right away he cleared his throat, slightly nervous all of a sudden.

“Of course, if you are on your way to see someone … I don’t want to spoil you a date or such … I was just thinking …”

Suddenly she cast him a bright smile that made him feel terribly unsure of himself. _‘Sap, sap, sap … Ohhh damn – you’re such an idiot….’_ his  mind echoed and did not make him feel any better.

At a loss for words he just flashed her a cheesy grin. “Oh …”

“I was originally planning to go outside,” she suddenly continued her explanations. “But if you think – ” she trailed off, not looking much more comfortable than he felt.   

“Well, I guess I had better headed back for our common room then,” she declared, looking a little confused. 

“No wait. _Ginny_!” he called softly and she slowly turned her head.

“Yes?”   

He smiled at her, glad about his sudden idea. “It’s probably not wise to sneak out to the grounds, but … I’ll show you some other place … If you like.”

**_ח_ **

Ginny could not believe she was – _again_ – trusting Tom to lead her down some unknown castle passageways.  

The situation held some kind of scary flashbacks for her. Well, at least they were walking – upstairs – this time – for a change.   

Despite her nervousness, she could not help but grin at the comedy of the situation. She had asked for some adventure in her life, hadn’t she? Well, it looked as if she was going to get it.

A couple of minutes ago she had been afraid to be discovered by Tom and now she was following him to some place she did not even know.

But though she felt nervous, she wasn’t afraid, she realised. Weird, very weird. She might certainly regret this. Maybe she should not…

As she slowed her steps down, in the middle of a long staircase, Tom turned his head.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes, yes, sure,” she responded lamely and started to follow him haltingly up the stairs. It would look odd if she changed her mind now.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.  She could not avoid the slight tremble in her voice.

Tom just smiled at her.

“That’s a surprise,” he told her. At her unenthusiastic expression his smile widened. “It’s awfully high up, I know, but – it’s worth climbing up all these stairs. You’ll see.” 

Not telling him that it was not so much the staircases she was worrying about, Ginny followed him further upwards. They had long ago passed the last classrooms and had now reached a deserted part of the castle – one that had been shut down for years. The stairways were much narrower and wound in many turns up here. It was a section of the castle that Ginny had never seen before. 

The air was stale up here and smelled of old dust and the years-long absence of sunlight. The window-shutters were closed and a thick layer of dust that covered the floor, muffled their steps. No candles or torches were lit up here and several cobwebs hung from the bare iron sconces.

The pale moonlight that peered in through the tightly closed window-shutters was the only light to cut through the blackness around, projecting an odd, riffled pattern of light and shadows to the dusty wooden-floor.

Beside her, Tom reached for his wand.

“Lumos,” he muttered and focused the dim light on the floor before her. “Look out, don’t trip, there might be some loose floorboards,” he warned.

Carefully Ginny continued her way, but he stopped her by gripping her hand.

“No, wait!”

She flinched with shock and stared at him out of wide, frightened eyes. He strengthened the grip around her fingers as if to reassure her of his presence and for a couple of seconds just looked at her. Ginny found herself unable to remove her gaze from his. She was surprised how real and strong his touch felt. Nothing like the ghostly memory she knew. His skin was warm and the grip of his fingers around her hand had a surprisingly comforting effect on her. Nonetheless a nervous fluttering filled her stomach, that only increased when Tom suddenly smiled at her.

“Do you have your wand, too?” he asked and she nodded.

At that he let go of her hand again and she felt oddly disappointed. Nervously, her fingers numb with excitement, Ginny fumbled with the pocket of her robe. For a moment she thought she had forgotten her wand and almost panicked. Tom, who must have noticed her distress, stepped immediately closer to her. His arm brushed against hers.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“My wand,” Ginny stuttered, searching her pocket again. “I don’t have it! I.. Ahh, no, here it is!”

She could have been wrong, but for a moment he looked almost – disappointed. Then the impression was gone.

“Oh good, you’ll need it. It’s pretty dark up there,” he just told her, turning towards the dark corridor they had to pass. “Come, we’re almost there.”   

Ginny swallowed against the lump in her throat.

“Lumos,” she muttered and the milky ray of her own wand-light sprang into life. Taking in a deep breath, she followed him. 

Their shadows flickered across the smooth sandstone walls, strangely elongated by the dim light of their combined wand-lights and when they rounded another corner, they stood at the foot of a narrow, wooden stairway that disappeared somewhere into the darkness.

“Wha- what’s up there,” Ginny croaked huskily and her own voice sounded very tiny and frightened in her ears. 

“The attic.”

At that she had to swallow again.

“The attic?” she repeated numbly and he nodded.

“Yes.  Keep hold of the hand-rail, the steps are very steep.”

As if sensing her unasked question, Tom continued: “We need to cross the attic to get to the roof.”

“And what,” she swallowed to steady her voice, but set her foot on the first step nonetheless. “What would we want on the roof?”

This time he did not respond.

Once they slipped through the old creaky door at the head of the stairs, a milky trace of pale silvery moonlight floated in a long trail across the dusty hardwood floor.

Confused, Ginny glanced around until she noticed that the light shone through the gable window to their right. As she gave her surroundings a closer look, she noticed several dark shapes piled up against each other. Old furnishings, tables and chairs from the classrooms, trunks and other containers and a row of other things of which she could only recognise vague shapes.  

Carefully Tom closed the door behind them.

“Shht – be quiet, we don’t want to frighten them.”

“Them?”

“Yes, it’s a pity that it’s so late already. I usually come up here at sundown. That’s the best time.”

“For what?” Ginny croaked hoarsely. “Who’s up here, Tom?”

She did not even notice that she had reached for his hand and stepped closer to him. Only when he softly pressed her fingers, did she realise what she had done. Embarrassed, she tried to draw her hand back, but he just squeezed it once again and led her into the direction of the moonlit gable window.

“It’s OK,” he muttered, “you needn’t be afraid. Come.”

Suddenly there was a noise in the beams above them. The rushed fluttering of wings and then right after, something – a dark shape – scudded across the room just above their heads before it wriggled to slip through a hole in the roof.

With a slight gasp of fear, Ginny stepped closer to Tom and in an impulsive movement he threw his arms around her.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he laughed, holding her at arm’s length to look into her face. “It’s just a bat!”

“A bat?” Ginny asked numbly, her heart hammering from the sudden rush of adrenaline and the unexpected closeness.

She felt truly stupid all of a sudden and could only hope that the dim moonlight would not give away the flush of her cheeks.

If he realised her embarrassment, he did not show it. For a couple of seconds Tom merely fixed her gaze, still holding her – and his voice was soft when he spoke.

“Are you afraid of bats?”

It took a few second for his words to sink in, but when she finally realised that he was still holding her, Ginny wormed from his arms.

“Oh no, I’m errm I’m not, no,” she stuttered.

At her struggling he let go of her and took a step back, as if suddenly uncomfortable himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. It wasn’t entirely clear what he was speaking about: the bats, or the prolonged grip around her shoulders.

“No, It’s OK,” Ginny declared hurriedly, unsure of what she meant as well. “I was just so startled.”

“Oh, I see, I should have told you …” he trailed off and suddenly there was an awkward silence between them.

“Do you still want to – go ahead – to the roof?” he asked and she hastily responded:

“Yes! Yes, I do! Let’s go!”        

With that they continued their way through the trace of moonlight towards the gable window.

A single – quite unsteady – wobbly chair was placed beneath the window and Tom, who had climbed out first, held out his hand for her to take it.

“Here, keep hold of my hand,” he advised her, as she followed.

They were on a flat roof area, she noted. Behind them the gable wall was towering, while there was a steep-angled, light-grey slate roof to their left. In front of them and to their right was just the night sky. Curiously, Ginny took a few steps into the direction of the abyss to peer over the edge, but once again Tom stopped her.

“Don’t!” he warned. “We’re awfully high up here!”

Nervously, Ginny took a step back and sat down on the little cornice wall on which the roof to their left rested. Tom leaned against the gable wall instead and crossed his arms. For a few moments neither of them spoke.

Ginny let her gaze wander across the wide, velvety black night sky. Deep down below she could see the lake, reflecting the glittering starlight and the treetops of the Forbidden Forest that covered the hill on the opposite side.

It was such an unusual place for a _‘date’_ , if one could call it such and yet – she loved every bit of it! They certainly were just as mad as the other one, indeed. What a lovely pair they built…

The obvious humour of the situation made her laugh all of a sudden.

Immediately Tom’s head turned towards her.

“What are you laughing about?” he asked rather sharply. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?!”

“No,” Ginny objected, but he just frowned at her.

“We better go back downstairs, if you don’t like it here!”

“No, I do like it, Tom. It’s beautiful,” she smiled, “really. It’s just so –” she shrugged, glancing around “so – unreal. So, where are your bats now?”

Only when he noticed she was not laughing at _him_ , did he seem to relax. 

“Well, as I said before, it’s best to come here at sundown. We’re a little too late to watch the bats flutter into the night, but maybe if we’re lucky – There are always a few sleepy-heads, like the one that startled you.”

“Ahhh-”

She did not know what to say to this and so they just fell silent again. After a couple of minutes Ginny started to freeze in the cool night air. As hot and summery as the days still were, the nights were starting to get a little chilly and held foreboding of the nearing fall.

But she did not dare to mention it so Tom would not get her wrong and think she only searched for a polite way to leave.

He did not look at her, just contemplated the grounds below.

“I sometimes come up here to sort out my thoughts,” he told her softly. 

Carefully, Ginny studied his face in the moonlight. It was so hard to believe that this boy, who came up to the roof of Hogwarts to watch the bats flutter out into the night, would become to most feared Dark Wizard of her time.

As usual when she thought of his dark future, she felt a stab of fright. And the shiver that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the slightly chilly night air.

Tom, who had turned to face her again, noticed her shuddering. Immediately he left his place at the wall and crossed the flat roof to sit down on the cornice beside her. 

“Are you cold?” he asked softly and took off his robe.

Too startled to react, Ginny just stared at him, when she felt the warm fabric placed around her shoulders at the next moment. 

She had never seen him without a cloak or robe before. In the light-grey slacks and jumper of his school uniform, Tom looked all the more odd. Good, but not at all like a dark wizard. She noted that the arms of his jumper were a few inches too short and realised that he had grown out of it. He probably could not afford new clothes every year either, she supposed. 

“Do… Don’t you need your robe yourself?” she croaked hoarsely, feeling all funny at the sight of his emerald-green eyes gazing into hers with a warm, kind expression.   

“No,” he muttered softly, “I’m not cold, Ginny.”

 

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed the read. Thanks to everyone, who gave me any kind of feedback.

**URUZ** , this chapter’s rune, is a rune of strength. Of powerful unconscious-shaping energies, instinct, irrationality, termination and new beginnings. It’s helpful to clear obstacles and change circumstances as well as to strengthen the will, to dispel weakness and self-doubt. And it also helps to prepare for changes and exciting events ahead.

Its shape resembles the little sign I typed to separate the single sections. It’s similar to an n, but seems to point downwards on the right. **_ח_**

Smiles, Serpentina


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